


CRK Rough Drafts

by TwinKats



Series: Candy Red Caste [4]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Character Death, F/M, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-10
Updated: 2014-07-08
Packaged: 2017-11-16 00:33:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 11
Words: 28,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/533517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TwinKats/pseuds/TwinKats
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I'm reworking CRK. A lot of it ended up unnecessarily complicated, too short, or too confusing in the beginning. I dragged things out where I didn't need to, created chapters where one was fine, and wrote things in a manner that often didn't make sense. So this is now considered the rough drafts for up to CH10 and a new CRK will be posted soon.</p><p>The Dolorosa had not planned to stage a second rebellion, or even escape her life as a slave. She had not planned to entertain another traitorous thought in her head aside from grief for the son she lost. Fate, it seems, had other plans when in her lap lands a young boy that looks just like the son she had lost, and the Dolorosa finds herself dancing to the tune of rebellion once again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It happened quickly, without warning. One moment they were in the dreams, enjoying the companionable company of the dead long past. The next they were vanishing, one by one. The sky had been torn open, there were screams of the dead ringing in the air. The dead were _dying_ again.

_He was already there._

Karkat was awoken by his back crashing into a wall. Something inside broke, he could hear it _snap_ loudly in his ears. Still the young troll pulled himself to his feet and brought out his sickles. The human Rose was lashing out with magic, the human Dave dodged the rebound ricochet of said magic. Kanaya already had her chainsaw-lipstick active and raised as she raced towards the monster in green skin. Terezi revealed the sword hidden in her dragon cane and lashed out.

In the monsters grip was Gamzee, green fingers were wrapped tight about the juggalos neck and despite the fact that Karkat could see Gamzee choking Gamzee was still thrashing about with his clubs, aiming to do damage where he could. With a furious roar Karkat too joined the fight.

In the back of his sponge, at the base of his horns and think pan, there tingled a warning. This was useless and ineffective; this was a battle they could not win. Not when this monster had all the ducks in a row, not when everything was already planned right from the start. A part of Karkat knew, somewhere, that they were doomed for failure here from the start.

That didn't stop them from fighting, from lashing out and attacking back.

Gamzee went flying, the monster tossed him at Karkat. Both boys hit the wall, something inside Karkat _cracked_ again and this time he could see his arm bent at an awkward angle. The young troll groaned and shoved Gamzee off. Gamzee, unconscious. Gamzee, not _breathing_. Grey eyes went wide and Karkat scrambled to check for a pulse and within a second breathed a sigh of relief.

Gamzee was still alive, just knocked out. Karkat stumbled to his feet and started back towards the fight; he tried to ignore the awkward bent of his arm. Kanaya went flying and crashed into a wall; she left behind a smear of green. Rose human and Dave human were tossed like ragdolls next as Kanaya charged again, Karkat staggering behind her, brows furrowed down.

Terezi made some headway, some damage, but then the monster got a hold of her cane-sword and her horns. She screamed bloody murder, howled and spat curses at him. Her claws dug at the fingers grasping her horns, her feet kicked out wildly. The monster shoved the sword through her neck and there was silence.

Then Dave, glasses askew and wine red eyes wide,

“TEREZI!”

and Karkat, with a choked mewling scream that just died away into stuttering gasps;

“NO!”

Kanaya, who faltered in her charge for a moment because, behind here, there was a horrified scream that rang, pitched and fearful,

“DAVE NO!”

because Rose had seen Dave do something, something that was not going to end well, but Dave would was about to act anyway.

Gamzee came around to see Karkat curse and make a mad dash towards Dave, to stop the ever building _stupidity_ that was racing about in the humans sponge. Kanaya stared in muted horror, her chainsaw-lipstick in limp fingers. The monster cackled as Rose pulled herself to her feet, coughing blood.

The Knight of Time pulled out his time tables, his eyes aglow with rage, and _he made them spin_. 

“Motherfuck--” was all Gamzee was able to say before the world exploded with green and red.

* * *

 

 _Scrubbing, scrubbing, scrubbing._ That was all she did now. Scrubbing until her fingers bled green, until her pale skin glowed with the fury of the sun. _Scrubbing, scrubbing, scrubbing_. She had to make sure her masters deck was clean, obey the masters orders, never a free thought in her head. Couldn't afford one, not anymore. Never anymore.

She ignored the quiet thunk of feet on wood; she ignored the boots that appeared within her vision. She ignored the way her bloodpusher roared to take action, to demand retribution— _they took him away from her it was her right to demand blood back!_

“On your hands and knees, _exactly_ where you belong,” Spinneret cackled and lashed out with a black boot. She caught the jadeblooded slave in the side. Water sloshed as the wooden pan went rolling away. Spinneret laughed. “Pathetic, traitorous, _filth_ ,” she spat and continued up to the top of the deck.

The Dolorosa pulled herself up and ignored the pain in her side. She grit her teeth and picked up the pan, the cloth, and got back on her hands and knees to continue to work again. She soaked up the excess water, wrung it out, and went back to scrubbing furiously. This was her life now; her punishment, her failure. The ever screaming fury of her sorrow, the loss of the poor boy— _her son—_ overtook everything and yet she could not act. She could not seek vengeance.

 _Scrubbing, scrubbing, scrubbing._ A useless life as a slave, that was all the Dolorosa had left now. The tattered remnants of her dignity, her past, were but a dream. A dream for all to spit on, a shame she didn't feel.

Faintly, above where the deck touched the sea air, she could hear voices. Below she could hear laughter. Gamblignants, sharing in their riches, their spoils, their tall tales. For a moment she spared a thought to the other children, the young yellowblooded boy and the greenblooded girl that her boy had taken such a strong liking to. Their brilliance had probably been stolen, their livelihoods and hope, just as hers was now. Perhaps they too mourned the loss of their precious, precious leader.

Ah, and now the tears decide to fall. Faded green trailing down her pale cheeks and dropping to the floor. She had thought that perhaps the tears were over now, but it does not look to be the case.

“My son...” she whispered, her voice keening an agonized low. Why did it still hurt after all this time? Would she be perpetually mourning the loss she never desired to see?

The sounds from outside, the voices grew a bit frantic over something. The Dolorosa didn't care; perhaps it was a seadweller tired of the Gamblignant sailors who came to finish them off. It would be a fitting end.

An earth shattering boom resounded and the entire ship shook. The Dolorosa's hands slipped and she crashed into the wood with a loud _thunk_. There was a flash of green and of red— _his_ red—and a second loud earth shattering boom and another rock of the ship. Carefully she pulled herself to her knees, her gaze inspecting the deck. Yes, there was a bit of green there. A touch of her fingers against her head and a careful inspection revealed that she'd cracked the skin just a bit.

The Dolorosa grimaced and closed her eyes. She breathed deeply. It was just a cut, and while head wounds bled a lot there was not much she could do about it otherwise except clean up the spill on the ground and wash away any crusted and dried blood later. With a sigh she reached for the rag again, and the pan, and this time stood to her feet. The pan needed fresh water to continue cleaning this floor.

Her hands were shaking as she dropped the rag into the pan and settled the pan just below her bust. She turned to walk off to the slaves quarters and then paused. There was red on the walls. Bright, candy brilliant red. _His_ red.

“No...” she whispered, and couldn't help the hitch of her breath. Oh she must be hallucinating. That color does not exist anymore, nor would it ever. Her gaze traveled along the trail of red from the wall, down to the huddled form against it. It was small, a pupa of perhaps six or seven sweeps old. There was a sluggishly bleeding cut on his torso, a no longer bleeding slice on his head, and his arm was bent at an awkward angle. Two threshecutioner style sickles lay forgotten at his sides. “Oh, no....”

She had to be hallucinating. _She had to be hallucinating._ The pan fell from lax fingers and clattered to the ground. The Dolorosa dashed forward and dropped to her knees, her fingers scrambling for purchase against the child's chin, in his hair. She searched out a pulse, felt the blood beneath her fingers herself, felt his _warmth._

“No, no, no...” she whispered over and over. Her fingers ghosted over the two small, nubby little horns at the top of his head, not quite touching because she _knew_ just how sensitive they would be. She'd seen it before on a face so similar, a face she'd raised since grubhood. Even the dullness of his teeth were the same, the slowly thinning of his cheeks, the limber limbs and the tiny fingers.... “No, no, no, no....”

He still had a pulse, his bloodpusher was still working, and he breathed out slow and steady. However he was unconscious, completely out of it. It couldn't matter in the end because the Dolorosa was pretty sure she was imagining him here, her boy, her baby. She must have hit her head harder than she thought.

That was when she noticed the shirt, and the grey sign upon it, and the trembling in her hands grew as she drew them back with a gasp.

“ _My baby....”_ she breathed once. Down the hall there came the familiar thud of boots on wood, and with a curse she scooped up the pupa into her arms. The Dolorosa couldn't do much about the blood, but then there wasn't much _to_ do. Thankfully the candy red always dried into a color similar to a rustblood. By the time the Gamblignant made its way here they would find the dried blood and perhaps assume that she'd been attacked. Spinneret would be told, and she'd have to spin a tale or _something—_ never mind that anyone on the hemospectrum was considered above her now. That didn't matter.

What mattered was getting this precious, precious thing—hallucination or not—to safety. 

Without another thought the Dolorosa fled down another hall, the young pupa so much like her son wrapped in her arms.

* * *

 

She was within her self-imposed exile, hiding deep within the caverns and writing as much that she could remember about him down. Every sermon, every word, every prayer, and every thought— _everything_ about her precious, her beloved, _her everything and her all—_ when the sound of an explosion ripped through the cave with a deafening echo.

She jumped and hissed, landing in a crouch, a spear in hand, her gaze dashed towards the cave entrance. There was another, second _horrible_ loud explosion and she bent forward and covered her ears with a keening cry. Her eyes snapped shut as flashes of green and _beloved, beloved red_ danced about. Then all was silent. The world was quiet.

Carefully she lowered her hands, first one and then the other, and then she picked up the spear. Slowly, with one foot in front of the other, she pawed her way through the cave checking for threats. Her steps where silent, unheard, like a great meowbeast. Her green orbs dashed about, checking for any sign of intruder, but there was none. As she reached the mouth entrance she paused to stare up at the night sky.

From her right there came a low groan, a shocked sound, and a choked, “Ne-pe-ta?”

She whirled around and aimed her spear at the intruder, crouching low and hissing. She bared her teeth, her eyes wild and feral. There were clubs, face paint, and an indigo mark—a subjuggulator trainee if she ever saw one. A younger face of _that bastard highblood that set her precious, precious beloved out to die!_

Fury coiled within and she made to pounce, except there beside the highblood sat up another familiar face. _Her_. Protector, kindly, jadeblooded woman that was a lusus in a trolls body. The one her precious called _mother—_ except it wasn't. The face was young and wrong, somehow. It wasn't, it couldn't _be_.

She lowered her spear just an inch and glanced between the highblood, and the young mother who looked dazed and shocked. She remained crouched, her lips pulled into a thoughtful frown.

“Mother?” she asked, hesitant, with her head cocked to the side. “Dolorosa?”

The highblood blinked as mother flushed, embarrassed.

“Motherfucker,” highblood said.

“Yes, Gamzee,” mother replied. “I do believe that sums up this situation quite well.”


	2. Chapter 2

She raced through the hallway, quick on her feet and careful with the precious bundle in her arms. Dolorosa wasn't sure if she was still hallucinating or not, but to be perfectly honest neither did she care. The heavy weight of the young wiggler in her arms, the blood that soaked through his clothes and to her slave dress, were all signs that pointed to his existence. Unless of course she was imagining that, too.

Every now and then she'd pause, and duck in an alcove of the ship. Spinneret's flagship of her Gamblignant fleet was not small by any means, and it had plenty of nooks and crannies that she'd ferreted out over the passing sweeps that she'd been enslaved here. From the cracks she'd watched with worried and terrified eyes as shipmates walked by. They joked loudly among each other, and occasionally they tossed about another slave. The noise didn't wake up the boy in her arms, surprisingly.

Eventually the Dolorosa reached her quarters; they weren't the atypical slaves quarters on the ship. They were a bit nicer, and a bit more expansive. For all the mistreatment that she'd been given, her status stripped and her life ruined, Spinneret went out of her way to make Dolorosa comfortable. It was infuriating, sometimes, but in this case it would be a blessing.

She slid the door shut with her foot, and gently laid the boy down on the slab that served as a bed. Gamblignants weren't afforded recuperacoons. They were too heavy and clunky to settle on a sea-faring vessel, even one as massive as this. All of the shipmates, except the slave force that slept in hammocks on the lowest level, had the wooden slab set up.

The Dolorosa moved a hand over his mouth to check his breathing, and then tugged the shirt that was soaked through up and over his head. His breathing was labored, probably from pain. The slice across his chest was long and trailed from his shoulder to his ribcage. She had to withhold a flinch, especially when it became apparent that the wound still oozed candy red. A cursory examination of the shirt revealed that he probably had a slice along his back as well.

A storage space to her right held any equipment she would need to stitch up the young's wounds. Quickly she pulled out a needle, some stitching thread, and a fresh cloth and pan which she filled with water. She was careful to wipe away the blood from the wound, dabbing at the gaping tear in the flesh lightly as she prepared the needle and thread. As she worked, she sang a haunting lullaby under her breath.

“Hush little one, don't you cry, in the morning we'll be free. We will fight and hide, for the freedom of life. Hush my son, don't you cry, mother will make things right....You will see when daylight's rise, the pain will be no more....”

It was the song that she used to sing when she cared for the Mother Grub in the Hatching Caverns. The Dolorosa could remember walking among the eggs that had just been laid, shifting and caring for them until they could hatch. She would sing throughout the cavern this haunting lullaby as she worked, even when the grubs hatched and awaited the Drones to take them away for the Trials she continued to sing. Even now she could remember that one little grub, with a red shell, chirping out the tune back at her as she moved past.

She continued to sing the haunting song as she worked through stitching up the wound on the boy's front, and his back. She tugged off her ruined clothing—stained by the bright red of his blood—and used it to bind his chest when she found the possibly broken rib. Two wooden sticks and the boy's shirt was used to make a splint for his broken arm. After that she just continued singing softly, dabbing at his forehead as she waited for him to wake. She cleaned away the remainder of the blood and redressed as well.

It wasn't long after the stitched wounds finally stopped bleeding that the pupa stirred. He shifted lightly and turned his head and licked his lips. One hand came up—the uninjured arm—to swipe at the Dolorosa's fingers as they continued to gently dab away the remaining blood on the poor boy's forehead.

“Kanaya...stop it,” the boy said sleepily.

“That is a pretty name,” the Dolorosa replied softly, no longer singing. “Kanaya.”

Karkat's eyes blinked open. The Dolorosa could see the faintest hints of red pigment beginning to seep into the boys iris. Seven sweeps old, then, she concluded silently. The pigment only started to display itself again when wiggler's reached seven sweeps. It was a sign of transition from pupa to adult.

It took a second, perhaps because Karkat's mind was covered in a sleepy haze, but once it registered that the Dolorosa was _not_ Kanaya he jerked back with a sharp curse and tried to scramble away.

“Oh,” the Dolorosa breathed, leaning forward to steady Karkat and make sure he didn't put too much pressure on his broken arm. “I am sorry for frightening you.”

They were silent. Karkat stared at the Dolorosa, frightened and wary, and the Dolorosa stared back. She tried to convey that she meant no harm, despite the odd shade of her skin and awkward glow to her eyes. Karkat recognized both as signs of a rainbow drinker, like Kanaya. The Dolorosa's face was like Kanaya's as well, only more mature in some respects, more worn in others.

“Where the fuck...am I?” Karkat asked. This was obviously not the meteor, although it could be a dream bubble.

“Aboard a Gamblignant ship,” the Dolorosa said after a second. “You appeared...quite randomly. I stitched you up as best I could....”

Not a dream bubble, if he was wounded. Karkat grimaced, this meant that this woman was actually a Troll—an _adult_ Troll—and they knew his blood color. He felt pale and weak, sickly at the thought of being culled now after who knows what happened.

The Dolorosa's ear twitched and her eyes went wide.

“Stay here, be quiet, _don't say a word_ ,” she said sharply, quickly, and tugged the curtains that surrounded the bed-slab shut. There was a gap big enough that Karkat could sort of see the room and the Dolorosa.

The door slammed open.

“Oh _slave_ ,” Spinneret drawled, stepping into the room. The Dolorosa stood stock still, hands clasped in front of her, and head bowed down. “Why is there such an _interesting_ blood color on my halls? You didn't... _attack_ anyone special, did you?” Spinneret walked right up to the Dolorosa and grasped her chin. She tugged the jadeblooded slave forward, searching her face. “No,” she said after a minute, “I don't think you _did_.”

Spinneret shoved the Dolorosa to the ground with a laugh.

“You know _better_ than to attack a Troll,” Spinneret laughed. “After all you couldn't even attack another for your precious _grub_. Oh how _pathetic!_ You lusus in a trolls flesh.” She kicked out with a boot and laughed some more. “Do be a dear and clean up that _mess_ though, would you? And find me the _body_.”

The Dolorosa clenched her fists tightly and, as usual, said nothing. Spinneret stared down at her for a minute before rolling her eyes.

“Oh you can speak,” she said dismissively, but the Dolorosa said nothing. Her mind was too full of turmoil and fury at the coldhearted jabs to the fact that she'd raised a grub, only to have the man she saw as a son _die_ for his belief's. For a better world. Spinneret eyed her for a minute and then huffed.

“Must you be so _boring?_ ” she demanded once, kicking out with her boot again. “Come now, say _something_. I went and rescued you from working your life at the Palace and you've given me nothing but silence. Not even a _peep_ about those foolish ideals of yours. No preaching, no _violence_...surely you must want to _kill me_ by now?”

The Dolorosa remained quiet, she practically bit her tongue to keep from screaming curses. Spinneret eyed her for a moment more, scoffed, and walked out of the room.

“Clean up that mess quickly, or I might just shove you in with the rest of the lot. Pathetic _bitch_.”

Once she was gone did the Dolorosa pull herself to her feet and shut the door with trembling fingers. Karkat watched as she took a moment to calm herself and sooth her ruffled nerves before she turned and opened up the curtains around the bed.

“What is your name, pupa?” she asked as if the entire exchange that he witnessed hadn't happened. “I am called the Dolorosa.” She sat down on the edge of the bed and smiled sadly. Karkat could see faint traces of tears that she had ignored.

“...Karkat,” Karkat replied after a minute. “What was that...troll talking about?”

The Dolorosa frowned, a bit surprised that he didn't know. Then again as far as she knew the Empire could have easily quelled any knowledge about her boy.

“I took in an abandoned grub,” she said after a moment. “He was special and didn't deserve the fate he was given. So I raised him, and as he grew he had a vision of how the world should be....” 

Her lips quirked up into a sad smile, and she stroked a bit of Karkat's hair away. She told him how her Signless child had preached peace and equality—that the lowerbloods should not be lower than the highbloods. That if they forgot about the hemospectrum everything would be _better_. Then she told him how the Empire grew weary of his preaching and had him executed, how her and his closest followers were hunted down in the aftermath. She didn't know the fate of the Ψiioniic, or of the Disciple—she only knew the fate of herself. Captured, and enslaved for the rest of her life.

* * *

 

Gamzee pulled himself to his feet; he used his clubs as a crutch until he stood tall. He glanced to Kanaya and held out a hand to help her up with a scowl. Once Kanaya was also on her feet Gamzee slouched down, twirling one of his clubs out of slight annoyance as he looked around. A familiar dark head and small nubby horns should be visible somewhere close by.

Kanaya spared Gamzee a slightly worried glance before turning towards the still crouched Disciple. She smiled slightly, although it seemed a bit worn.

“My name is Kanaya Mayram,” she said after a minute. “This is Gamzee Makara. I am afraid our impromptu appearance was not planned. Perhaps you could tell us where we are and if anyone else has appeared besides ourselves? Perhaps two pale skinned aliens?”

“Motherfuckin' Strider better not be here,” Gamzee practically growled and clenched his clubs just a bit tighter. “Or I might just motherfuckin _bash his head in_.”

Kanaya frowned, especially when the Disciple stiffened and hissed. Kanaya spoke sternly, “Gamzee, calm yourself.”

“I don't see my motherfuckin pale bro anywhere, _do you motherfucker?_ ” Gamzee replied back, the yellow of his eyes darkening just a bit. Kanaya fingered her lipstick nervously.

'That does not mean that Karkat is not here just as we are,” she pointed out. “If this is the resulting clash of two Time players of vastly different classes as I suspect, then it is most likely that Karkat is here just as you and I are. Especially since last we saw he was trying to _stop_ Dave.”

Kanaya didn't voice the other suspicion she had, one where Karkat's closer proximity to the ensuing chaos perhaps ended his life alongside Terezi's. They couldn't be sure the effects of the clash between Lord English and Dave actually left any of the others closer to the epicenter of the chaos alive or not. Dave, Karkat, and even Rose could be dead for all they knew. Kanaya did not wish to believe that option true.

“ _I don't see my motherfucker anywhere bitch_ ,” Gamzee snarled.

“This is _Alternia_ , Gamzee,” Kanaya pointed out. “Alternia is _large_. He could be anywhere; he was the closest of us to the epicenter of whatever it was that happened. It is safe to _assume_ that therefore he appeared somewhere different than you or I. Karkat wouldn't leave you alone, not after all the two of you have been through. So calm your mind Gamzee before I am forced to do something I will later regret.”

Gamzee snarled, but turned away. The Disciple was stiff, her eyes were wide in a mixture of terror and fury. Kanaya moved until she was blocking Gamzee from the Disciple's sight.

“Please,” Kanaya said soothingly. “Can you tell us where we are exactly? We will leave you in peace; we mean you no harm.”

After a moment the Disciple shifted up until she was standing and shook her head. She was wary of the highblood, but he seemed to be forcefully restraining himself.

“You are at my den,” the Disciple said after a minute of warily watching Gamzee as tried to sooth his rattled thinkpan by fiddling with his clubs. “You look a lot like beloved's mother.”

Kanaya nodded slowly, “Yes, I suppose I do.”

There was another pause and then the Disciple nodded. “I have not seen any aliens. The two of you just appeared here outside my den.”

Kanaya nodded in her understanding. “Thank you, then we will be on our way.” She turned to look at Gamzee who was staring at her blankly. His eyes had not returned to their natural yellow hue, but had retained a more orangeish tint. Kanaya withheld a shiver. “Gamzee?”

“I'm fine. I'm just motherfuckin' _fine_ ,” Gamzee replied. Kanaya nodded slowly and took a few steps in his direction. When the young troll didn't tense or raise his clubs she relaxed ever so slightly.

“We will find Karkat, Gamzee,” Kanaya said carefully.

“You better motherfuckin' hope so, my jade blooded sister,” Gamzee replied. Silent the Disciple watched the entire exchange. She wondered what the Dolorosa or perhaps her beloved Signless would do, faced with two adolescent Trolls and one of them obviously a highblood. The girl that looked like the Dolorosa the Disciple felt was at least trustworthy, the boy brought the hairs on the back of her neck up. Once the two started to actually walk away she came to a rather hasty decision.

“Wait!” the Disciple called out, staring at the two of them. “It is the dim season; dawn will rise soon. You can stay in my den until dusk. I have a map.”

There. Signless would approve of that, and so would Dolorosa. She'd help them find their friend who was obviously the highbloods moirail, and the way they both seemed to be worried about the missing troll he might have been cullworthy in some way. It was odd to think of a highblood sharing any quadrant with another that was cullworthy, but considering said highblood was working rather hard to restrain himself for hurting his friend perhaps he _wasn't_ anything like the Subjuggulator's that killed her beloved.

The two paused, and Kanaya turned back. “You are obviously uncomfortable around my companion. I would not wish to impose upon you.”

The Disciple frowned and her fingers twitched. She itched to hurt the highblood, but she restrained herself for her next question. “Your friend, he is...?”

Gamzee turned around and stared at her. His face was an impassive mask, and after a moment he raised both hands and made a rather simple sign. A very _familiar_ sign.

“This is my motherfucker,” Gamzee said. The Disciple sucked in a sharp, hissing breath. “This is my motherfuckin' moirail's _symbol_.”

Kanaya hissed sharply, “Gamzee!” but the warning was not heeded.

The Disciple stared at Gamzee's fingers, stared at the symbol he showed her, and the nodded once.

“You are alright in my den,” she said. “You will be safe in my den.”

Gamzee nodded once and lowered his hands. For now, things might work out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lullaby lyrics by me, music that inspired them: <http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K1dQm5zcStI>
> 
> Lyrics:
> 
> Hush little one  
> don't you cry  
> in the morning we'll be free
> 
> We will fight and hide  
> for the freedom of life
> 
> Hush my son  
> don't you cry  
> mother will make things right  
> You will see when daylight's rise  
> the pain will be no more
> 
> Hush my son  
> don't you cry  
> everything will turn out right
> 
> We will be together  
> even when we're not
> 
> Hush my son  
> don't you cry  
> mother won't leave your side  
> When the sun rises up  
> I'll always be right here
> 
> Hush my son  
> don't you cry  
> mother is right here
> 
> I will never go away  
> and leave you all alone
> 
> Hush my son  
> don't you cry  
> we'll get through this strife  
> Someday we will be free  
> so go and dry those tears
> 
> Hush little one  
> don't you cry  
> in the morning we'll be free
> 
> We will fight and hide  
> for the freedom of life
> 
> Hush my son  
> don't you cry  
> mother will make things right  
> You will see when daylight's rise  
> the pain will be no more


	3. Chapter 3

A perigee had passed since Karkat's arrival before the Dolorosa. The Gamblignant ship sailed, ever slowly, over the oceans and through seatroll domains. More than once it had been attacked, mostly by Dualscar. A few times Dualscar even boarded the ship itself, but those moments were spent with Spinneret inside her cabin and there was always a lot of blood to clean up afterward.

Karkat remained close by at any given moment, even when he was healing. She'd hide him in nooks in crannies that she'd unearthed, and let him out in the open only when there were no other trolls present. His presence had led to her singing softly as she worked, which led to memories of her time in the Hatching Caverns with the Mother Grub, which always reminded her of her Signless son.

Spinneret had taken the Dolorosa's soft singing as a sign that she was _finally_ getting used to her station in life. The increased advances of the blueblood, while unwelcome, at least served to keep her from looking too closely into what the Dolorosa did. This distraction led to the Dolorosa being able to sneak food to the young pupa she was secretly caring for.

Said young troll was oftentimes quiet around the Dolorosa; he seemed contemplative or wary and constantly on edge. She tried her best to quell whatever nerves he had, but it was obvious she was not quite what he needed. Her attempts helped more often than not, at the very least, and lately he had begun to open up to her. Such as now, he sat upon a box of crates and watched as she scrubbed up the latest mess left behind by the Gamblignants.

“He's such a fucking nookstain sometimes,” Karkat said, his knees drawn up and his face almost buried in them. He was speaking of a troll named Gamzee who had some sort of significance to him. “I mean what fuckass forgets to use the abulation trap to the point that they stink like something unholy curled up and died? Or forgets to make themselves a grubloaf sandwhich from the nutriblock? And that's even ignoring when he gets into one of his goddamned moods where the world needs to burn or some such bullshit.” Karkat let out a shaky breath. “Dumbass shitty clown.”

The Dolorosa blinked as she scrubbed at a particularly tricky stain. “You're worried about him.”

“...yeah,” Karkat replied and buried his head deeper into his knees. “He's probably going crazy without me and getting himself culled for it. He's still on Kanaya's shit list for some of the stunts he's pulled.”

“Oh?” the Dolorosa asked. “Kanaya is the young troll that I remind of you, correct?”

Karkat nodded and bit his lip. “Gamzee...kinda lost his shit for a while and it took me a bit of work to bring the idiot back. It also took me what felt like fucking sweeps to get Kanaya to at least promise not to cut him in two if they ever were face to face again.”

The Dolorosa blinked. Rage enough to cut someone in two was not something she herself normally felt, unless she counted the day her son was culled so publicly and painfully. That was the only moment in time where she had felt such potent, platonic hatred for another troll. Even now, in the sweeps since, her hatred's potency lessened, but it didn't wane. Time had not healed the wounds, and the Dolorosa knew it never would.

“What did Gamzee do?” she asked, a little hesitant to find out. Karkat laughed bitterly.

“What didn't he?” he muttered disdainfully. “That's not fucking it, though. It's more he's a stupid fuckass that makes a great scapegoat for her anger. I think she wished she drew out Eridan's death more or something, considering he's the fucking douchenozzle that fucked up far worse than Gamzee ever could.” Karkat kept silent that Kanaya also, perhaps, felt some odd sense of jealousy towards Gamzee for filling his Pale Quadrant. He knew that she wanted to lay claim to it, like Nepeta wanted to be in his Flushed Quadrant, but they weren't what he needed or looked for, really, and while he hadn't meant to lead them on...he just didn't want to hurt either of their feelings.

The Dolorosa asked, even more hesitant now, “And what did this Eridan do?” She couldn't quite help it, but she was rather curious about what could enrage someone who was supposedly like her.

Karkat shook his head and muttered a short, “Doesn't matter anymore.” It really didn't, actually. Not just because the end of their race was an inevitability, but also because it just wasn't worth the pain to contemplate when he was _here_ where other adult trolls were so prevalent.

The Dolorosa herself frowned, but let it go. Reluctance lined every bit of Karkat's frame. He really did not desire to talk about it. Instead she sighed and scrubbed a bit harder. Silence fell about them; all encompassing in its presence.

“Have I told you of how my son met his greatest friend?” she asked instead.

Karkat raised his head slightly; curiosity tinged his question, “Disciple Meulin? Or Ψiioniic Mituna?” It was the Dolorosa's turned to be surprised; she was certain that while she had spoken fondly over her son, she had not mentioned the titles of his friends, let alone their wiggler names.

“How...” she started, letting go of the cloth instead to sit up tall and stare at Karkat in complete befuddlement.

Karkat didn't flush; he'd worked too hard over the years to restrain any reaction that could unintentionally reveal his blood color, and while flushing did not make the exact shade of his blood apparent, it was the closest thing to a dead give away aside from bleeding. Instead Karkat hunkered down lower. One hand came to fiddle with a splinter from the crates he sat upon.

“Fuck,” he said. “I forgot you hadn't...called them that.”

The Dolorosa stared at him, uncomprehending. She stood and knelt down in front of Karkat, one hand gently scrubbed through his hair soothingly; it skirted around his horns careful not to touch.

“How did you know their wiggler names?” she asked, and Karkat hunkered lower.

The young Troll was silent, and the Dolorosa took it for embarrassment. She wondered if he was a Dreamer like her precious son, but Karkat instead was thinking of the best way to explain how he knew the information without revealing his hard-kept secrets.

His voice was cold, dead when he chose to speak next. His bloodpusher squeezed painfully as he tried to force down emotions that wanted to rise o the forefront of his pan. “Terezi was obsessed with the teachings of the Sufferer.”

The Dolorosa held back a flinch; her son's new monicker was just a cold reminder of what he went through in the end.

Karkat continued, “She wore his irons around her neck. She wanted to be a legislacerator, and to her everyone was equal, especially under law, so it should be true out of law too.” Karkat didn't pause in his explanation, but he did silently beg for forgiveness for most of his words. Terezi would not like being compared to Vriska in any way, and here Karkat was meshing the two together. It was cruelty. “She would recite the stories written by the Disciple to us—about the Sufferer's journey and the things he went through.”

It was a blatant lie; the Disciple's records were myth by the time Karkat had pupated. Sure, Terezi was a follower of the teachings—or what little of them remained—but that wasn't where Karkat learned those names. He couldn't just say it was from a dream bubbles where he met their pre-scratch selves from Beforus to this adult Troll; he would probably be listed as insane.

Granted in the dream bubble wasn't the _only_ time he had ever heard those names, but Karkat would never tell a soul that.

“Honestly it was fucking annoying,” Karkat closed his eyes, ignorant to the single tear that trailed down his cheek. “She'd type-cast some of us just based on the fucking descriptions in her book. Like me, because I looked so much like the fucker, I got put on a pedestal sometimes and fuck it if I couldn't just maintain that wholly perfect image for her.”

The Dolorosa blinked once and made a slightly soothing click in the back of her throat. “Was?” she asked. He spoke of this troll as if she weren't here anymore.

Karkat hunkered down further, a second tear trailed down his cheek. This one from the other eye.

“Stupid fucking wannabe legislacerator went and got herself killed,” Karkat mumbled. “Her cane-sword pushed through her fucking neck. Last I could see was that goddamned fuckass matesprit's of hers face all sorts terrified and determined to fuck shit up.” To be perfectly honest that was the last he could even  _remember_ ; seeing Terezi, dead, and Strider with his turntables, right before shit hit the whirling device.

The tears came nonstop now. He couldn't help it; Karkat not once had even attempted to reconcile the fact that he would never see Terezi again, let alone that he lost the chance to be anything with her. Dave had filled her flushed quadrant, and Karkat _knew_ that Gamzee was her caliginous partner. The stupid clown couldn't hide that from him, although he did try out of some crazy attempt to be sensitive to Karkat's feelings.

The Dolorosa clicked lightly in the back of her throat again, and began to hum the lullaby softly as she pulled Karkat into her arms. Her fingers clawed through his hair, lightly teased his scalp. Occasionally they would brush close to his horns and over his horns, but they would never touch. In her arms Karkat broke down, silent tears trailing down his cheeks, silent sobs escaped his chest.

With Karkat in her arms, broken but healing from what the Dolorosa realized was a terrible ordeal, she quelled her urge to ask if he knew her wiggler name. She quelled the urge that there was more to his story that he hadn't told her. Sweeps of living with her son had taught her all of his mannerisms, mannerisms that Karkat himself had in abundance. He hadn't given her everything, but then he had no obligation to do so.

She continued to hum, and sooth him as best she could, in the way that only a mother could. Silently, to herself, the Dolorosa vowed once again to get him as far away from this ship, and those who can and would hurt him. She would tear down the Empire, if it would keep this pupa safe. 

Funnily enough, she planned to do just that.

* * *

 

At first Kanaya figured they would stay with the Disciple for only the night; the adult was obviously still very wary of Gamzee even though he had gone and displayed Karkat's cast sign so brazenly to a woman who only knew that symbol as the pain of a matesprit's execution. Somehow, though, this made them trustworthy to the exiled, feral woman. Kanaya was not sure why, except that perhaps it had to do with those irons Terezi had worn around her neck—when they were younger she'd thought they'd been a gift from Karkat in poor taste.

When dusk had arisen the next day, however, Kanaya found Gamzee not prepared to leave.

“Gamzee, are we not heading out to find Karkat?” Kanaya had asked, her hand wrapped around the map that the Disciple gave them.

Gamzee had just _looked_ at her through half-lidded eyes. He didn't say anything, he just remained relaxed against the wall in a slouched position. One leg curled, the other sitting up and bent. His clubs nestled within reaching distance, not recaptchalogged like Kanaya would have expected.

Kanaya backed down, however, and they stayed a second night. Then a third, and then a fourth, until finally the Disciple herself made a second appearance. She had scrolls wrapped around her waist, a spear at her back with a sack wrapped around it. Her hair was now a tamed mess, and her eyes sharp with purpose.

Gamzee stood up when she appeared; he took his clubs in hand and stared at her with half-lidded orange tinged eyes. She stared right back, and Gamzee nodded once. Kanaya watched the entire exchange, uncomprehending of what exactly happened.

“Let us find your furriend,” the Disciple said softly, her voice lilting into a catpun almost without thought.

There was something different about her, Kanaya noticed. Something harder—it was like she had found a purpose, that her grief had become a weapon to be used. Somehow this Disciple was a different troll altogether, determined and strong willed in a way Nepeta hadn't had the chance to become. This was a warrior, a huntress, and Kanaya realized a very valuable ally.

She glanced to Gamzee, just a bit shocked. Had he _known_ that this would happen, somehow? He was a Bard, not a Seer like Terezi, or a Sylph like herself, but it was his silent decision to wait that Kanaya had obeyed without thought.

Both the Disciple and Gamzee turned towards Kanaya, who had not said a word.

“Well? Where should we motherfuckin' head to first, wicked sister?” Gamzee asked, his voice low and just a bit darker than normal. “You being the one holding the map, plotting out where my invertebrother would have arrived and all, leading us on this here merry motherfuckin' trip.”

Kanaya breathed in slowly and nodded, “Judging by our position from the epicenter, and our arrival point on Alternia, I calculated that Karkat most likely arrived somewhere due North of here.”

The Disciple almost frowned, “North leads to the sea. It is dangerous furr anyone low on the hemospectrum.”

Kanay nodded, and looked rather grim. “However due north is the direction Karkat was in, compared to Gamzee and myself. If we arrived similar to the points we were in when the event happened, then it is mostly like Karkat arrived in the same manner. The question remains at how expanded the diameter grew in the aftermath.”

“So my motherfucker could have arrived in the middle of the fucking sea?” Gamzee growled, his grip on his clubs tightening. “ _He could have been culled by some sea-dwelling bitch?_ ”

Kanaya winced. “It is a possibility,” she said softly. “However I believe it is unlikely. We arrived in a position directly related to one of the Signless' followers, and a place safest for arrival. Karkat will have most likely arrived in a similar situation.”

This was conjecture, and Gamzee's stare told her he knew that just as well she did. Kanaya was grasping at straws, trying to pacify him from losing the tenuous amounts of control that he had left, and while the idea was in a way _sweet_ Gamzee didn't want to be pacified by some uppity jadeblooded bitch. He wanted his candy red moirail.

“ _You better be motherfuckin' right, miracle sister,_ ” he growled and stepped back.

The Disciple watched the exchange, silent, before she started off.

“Due north, correct? Then let our paws hit the earth and go,” the Disciple uttered, and started walking. Kanaya and Gamzee followed after her, Gamzee settling on the Disciple's opposite side of Kanaya.

That was almost a perigee ago. In that time they had made their way due north for miles, and as they walked and searched they grew every closer to the sea. Gamzee grew edgier, and edgier, the longer he remained parted from Karkat. This the Disciple and Kanaya both had witnessed. They would, during the dawn before settling down to sleep the day away, discuss travel plans in low voices while Gamzee sat away from them, and stared out towards the cave entrance.

“To be purrfectly honest, we are lucky to not have run into any pawtrolls,” the Disciple murmured softly to Kanaya. “The clawser we get to the sea, the more pawtrolls should be around. Any furrther than this and we risk discovery.”

“Your catpuns are getting more frequent,” Kanaya observed, and the Disciple smiled at her in response. “You are correct through. Perhaps we should shift this plan around. Searching for Karkat in this direction has wielded no results. I have never been that great at calculations, Sollux was the better of our friends at that, and so it is likely I made a mistake. At any rate, we have run into no one that we recognize, or even another troll...”

The Disciple pointed to a path on the map, “We can take this route; it leads to a pair of abandoned hatching caverns and should bypass the pawtrolls. Because we have a highblood with us, they will look at our party more clawsly....”

“And your face, despite the sweeps in exile, is still most likely recognizable,” Kanaya replied softly. “Alright, we'll take this path. These caverns though, they take us away from the sea....”

“Purrhaps your furriend did not arrive there,” the Disciple replied. “He could be furrther inland instead. My beloved's followers are more frequent away furrom the sea-dwellers; it is easier to hide amongst the villages. If we make our way to a lowblood dwelling-place...”

Kanaya nodded, “We could expand our search if we had more people, if his followers are willing.”

The Disciple nodded, her eyes narrowed and serious. “They will be; furr my beloved they would do anything.”

At the front of the cave Gamzee clutched his clubs tighter. Perhaps this plan of theirs could work and there would be wicked miracles made and he would be reunited with Karkat. At the very least they'd already be working on the preparations for his pale-brother, preparations that were long in coming. Gamzee smirked lightly. Wouldn't Karkat be so _proud_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, Gamzee. What might you be plotting there....?
> 
> Also, every time I read Nepeta, Meulin or Disciple talk, I imagine this psuedo russian accent because of the catpuns >


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forewarning, right now, there is rape/non-con in this chapter. It is heavily, outright hinted at, not blatantly described. You do, however, know it happens when it happens.
> 
> Also inspiration thanks to: [Heaven's Forge](http://archiveofourown.org/works/454831/chapters/781310) by [FlipSpring](http://archiveofourown.org/users/FlipSpring/pseuds/FlipSpring)  
> Photo inspiration: [1](http://spriteocarina.deviantart.com/art/Bard-of-Rage-307471015) | [2](http://laverinth.deviantart.com/art/bard-of-rage-godtier-273755217) | [3](http://alinajames.livejournal.com/487753.html)

They'd spent practically another four perigees at sea before Spinneret entered the Dolorosa's cabin with news.

“My _darling_ slave!” Spinneret said, slamming the door open. Karkat barely had a moment to hide in the back corner of the wooden bed, behind the sheet covers and pillows. The curtains were closed, but cracked enough that again he could barely see their shapes.

The Dolorosa herself settled into a submissive position the minute Spinneret entered the cabin. The cerulean blooded troll had a wide grin across her face that showed the many rows of her sharp teeth. All eight of her pupils were trained solely on Dolorosa as she moved forward. She reached out with a gloved hand and lifted the jadeblood up by her chin.

“ _Guess what_ ,” Spinneret crowed softly, staring down at the glowing, jade colored eyes before her. The Gamblignant practically vibrated with energy. She let go of the Dolorosa and stepped around her as she slumped to the ground. “We will be in the harbor in three nights time,” Spinneret continued. “Do you know what _that_ means, oh darling _slave_?”

The Dolorosa said nothing and kept a wary eye on Spinneret. She of course knew exactly what it meant; it meant what she had always known it to mean. Except now the meaning was different; now she had a grub again, and this one she wouldn't let out of her sight.

“It _means_ ,” Spinneret turned and grabbed the Dolorosa by the back of her hair, “that your time upon _my ship_ and in _my presence_ has finally come to an end. Unless, of course, something changes my _mind_.” Mind was drawn out sing-song-like. At one point in time the Dolorosa might have gone with what Spinneret had planned, if only because the other option was far more terrifying.

Now though, now the Dolorosa had a _third_ option. This option was _freedom_ and its taste was too tempting to ignore.

“Well?” Spinneret demanded, her grin slipped into a scowl. The silence was not what she had wanted to hear. “Speak up slave, get to it. I'm _just waiting_ to be _persuaded_ to keep you.”

The Dolorosa breathed out slowly; she refrained from glancing back at Karkat as she raised her gaze up towards Spinneret. Spinneret towered over her, hands still curled in the length of the Dolorosa's locks. Tight enough to sting, but otherwise not hurt. The Dolorosa opened her mouth to respond. She did not have fear in her eyes, her lips did not tremble to beg like Spinneret imagined.

Instead, she said, “I refuse.”

It was rather comedic how Spinneret just seemed to freeze. She blinked, as if she hadn't quite heard what she thought. Her head tilted to the side, the scowl had vanished entirely as she stared, dumbfounded, at the Dolorosa. Her fingers even slipped from the Dolorosa's hair.

“I'm sorry, what?” Spinneret asked. “I'm fairly certain I heard you wrong. You.... _refuse_?”

“I refuse,” the Dolorosa repeated, entirely calm and entirely defiant all at once.

Spinneret _shrieked_. In that second gone was the playful Gamblignant and in her place stood the Marquise. Her hands trembled, her face _twisted_.

“ _YOU REFUSE?!_ ” she roared and lashed out with a sharp kick towards the Dolorosa's back. “ _HOW DARE YOU REFUSE ME! AFTER ALL I HAVE DONE FOR YOU!”_ The kick was followed by a second, to the Dolorosa's ribs. Then it was followed by a sharp stomp of the Marquise's booted heel. “ _AFTER ALL I HAVE GIVEN YOU!_ ”

The Dolorosa curled and tried to withhold a scream. Her claws dug into the wood of the ship in an effort to not lash back. Attacking the Marquise now would only fuel the rage within, and that would lead to culling. The beating continued, with the Marquise screaming and shrieking about how this was not what was supposed to happen. That the Dolorosa should have accepted what she offered, because that was how it was _promised_ to her.

“ _No, no, no, no, NO!_ ” The Marquise grabbed the Dolorosa by the back of her hair and pulled her up. She tossed her at the wall; the Dolorosa stumbled and hit a protruding dresser instead. The sharpened corner dug into her side, slicing the flesh more cleanly than the heel and toe of the Marquise's boots had. “ _YOU DO not! Refuse! ME!”_ The Marquise was practically snarling as she grabbed the Dolorosa again by the hair, this time smashing her head against the dresser with each word she spoke. Then she shoved the other troll against the wall and tore into her clothes.

In the bed Karkat had to withhold any noise that wanted to escape. His eyes were wide; he shook and trembled, his hands curled into his hair almost protectively over his horns. He bit his lip with the rounded edges of his teeth to prevent from making a sound. His breath was heavy, but thankfully the noise from the Marquise drowned that out quite effectively. Pale red tears trailed down his cheeks, and for some reason Karkat couldn't look away. The sounds were horrible enough, but the sight made it worse. If he looked away, though, he would risk discovery; the Marquise could turn and spot him, or she could move to the covered slab that was a bed and he wouldn't know.

So Karkat watched as the Marquise shoved the Dolorosa against the wall and tore her clothing. He watched as she dragged her claws down the pale, faintly glowing flesh of the Dolorosa's back. Bright, jade green welled up from the cuts to mix and mingle with the blood that still trailed down from her head and her sides. Karkat watched as the Marquise huffed, angry, and narrowed her eyes as she pushed flushed against the Dolorosa's back.

Fingers gripped the Dolorosa's cheeks tightly, nails dug in. There was a hissed, “ _I'm_ the one that gets to _refuse,_ ” and then her eyes glowed, bright, and the air grew heavy. Any pained, muffled sounds the Dolorosa made vanished. Her jade green eyes blanked out, the pupils becoming pinpricks. The Marquise let go of the Dolorosa's cheeks and stepped back. Blank faced the Dolorosa turned, knelt down, and began to undress the Marquise.

Karkat watched, trembling and crying, as the rage bled way into moans and sighs of pleasure. The Marquise softly praised the Dolorosa, petted her hair, and treated her like a matesprit despite how the Dolorosa was bleeding and broken and not moving of her own accord. Karkat squeezed his eyes shut then; he didn't want to see any more.

Eventually the moans and sighs raised in pitch and Karkat burrowed deeper into the blankets and pillows and squeezed his arms tight over his auricular sponge clots. He kept his eyes squeezed shut as the noises raised higher and higher until the Marquise was practically _screaming_ and then everything was silent. Karkat held his breath, he kept his eyes clenched shut. The silence was next replaced by a pleased, breathless sigh. Hesitantly Karkat opened his eyes, the next second they were round, and then he clenched them shut again.

The Marquise stood, entirely naked and covered in genetic material. She stared down at the Dolorosa, who laid collapsed on the ground. The Dolorosa was still blank faced, and panting, but there wasn't the same heavy feeling that had risen in the air before, and the Marquise's eyes had lost the faint glow. The Dolorosa's pupils weren't pinpricks now, but instead blown full wide. Like the Marquise she too was practically covered in genetic material—both bright jade green and cerulean blue.

Sated, and pleased, the Marquise pulled back on her clothes. She glanced back down at the Dolorosa and smiled, all teeth and mischievousness. The playful Gamblignant was back.

“ _Thank_ you for such a _wonderful_ time, dear slave,” Spinneret laughed. “It was so much _fun!_ ”

Without another word she left the cabin. On the floor the Dolorosa didn't move; she just breathed heavily. Her body ached and bled still.

On the bed Karkat hesitantly opened his eyes again. There was no sign nor sound of Spinneret, and so warily he poked his head out between the curtains. The room was empty aside from the Dolorosa. Quietly he slipped from the bed and scrambled to the door, which he shut with hardly a sound. He looked to the Dolorosa and felt bile rise up through his protein chute. Karkat squashed the urge to be sick; no was not the time. Steeling himself and squaring his shoulders, the young troll quickly went about to help the broke adult on the floor as best he could. 

Vriska's ancestor, he decided, was worse than Vriska herself.

* * *

 

They moved swiftly in an attempt to reach the abandoned hatching caverns. The route was perilous, there weren't many caves to hole up in on the way. Oftentimes the three had to make hasty and shoddy temporary structures to protect them from the sun. The Disciple and Gamzee would help form the structure until dawn hit, and then huddle under some suncloth while Kanaya finished it.

Kanaya would have sewn them some sort of protective garments to wear, so that they could travel during the day protected, and thus avoid any patrols or dangers that arose with the night, except the only suncloth the had were the remnants of the Signless' cloak. The Disciple guarded the torn, dirty garment furiously.

Building structures in the wilderness was a risky gamble; if another troll happened across them it was a clear sign that they'd been there. The Disciple knew they could, and would, be tracked by the abandoned structures they left behind. Gamzee did his best to render any structures they'd been forced to make into kindling and rubble, but there was always a chance some obvious remnant had been left behind. It was why they moved as quick as they could.

Every night, when the moons were up in the sky, they would race across the land. When one of them grew hungry, or tired, they would slow and walk for a couple of hours, and then it would be right back to running. They could not waste much time, especially if they desired to survive.

It was one night, as they ran through the trees that Gamzee stopped. He stood stock still and turned his gaze upright, towards the moon. His hands clenched into fists around his clubs as his pupils dilated. One corner of his lip curled up. Ahead of him the Disciple slowed, and turned to look back. The orange to Gamzee's sclera brightened into a dark, furious red. Slightly ahead of the Disciple Kanaya slowed and looked back as well. She paled and reached for her lipstick.

“ _Fuck_ ,” she cursed and dashed forward. “We have to move!” Kanaya grasped the Disciple by the hand and tugged her back along the path they were running.

“What?” the Disciple turned, she gnawed on her lip. “What is wrong with--”

“No time!” Kanaya ground out, “We have to move! Before he notices--”

Gamzee turned and tilted his head in their direction. His eyes were glazed, almost unseeing. He waved, the upcurl to his lip shifting into a wide smile, full of teeth, and more than a bit crazed. Then Gamzee turned again, and swung his clubs just as a group of Ninjairates burst through the treeline. His clubs caught one of the Ninjairates that had leaped at him. The troll let out a screech and there was a wash of bright blue. It doubled over, gasped, and quickly jumped back.

The others, eight of them in total, leaped back and began to warily circle Gamzee as the young troll laughed. The air around him grew heavy and he began to glow bright indigo and purple. The Disciple and Kanaya stood stock still, both eyes wide. Panic edged around Kanaya's pan as bright purple sparks began to dance around Gamzee, arcing between the Ninjairates and the young indigo. The very air distorted, and his it did so his clothes seemed to shift.

Around his head spiraled out a hood; it started tight against his skull and settled around his eyes like a half-mask of indigo. There where eyeholes to see and holes at the top for his horn. From there a second hood built up like a violet jesters hat with two points that dangled down and made faint jingling noises from bells at their pointed ends. There were two much larger holes, held together by dark purplish-black stitching that his horns went through. This hood ballooned out around Gamzee's face, settling loosely at his shoulders and over his head. It curled around his neck and shoulders like a jesters ruff, except in the back it elongated into what looked like a cape of streamers.

The shirt on Gamzee's chest, black with his cast symbol, began to be replaced, inch by inch, with a purple tunic. In the center was the symbol of Rage, Gamzee's Aspect from the game. It was colored in a light lavender to contrast the purple color of the tunic. The sleeves on his hands billowed out into bells, and the tunic itself split along the sides at his wast, and hung to his knees. A simple, black rope tied itself across his hips.

His pants were next to change, from their loose, pajama sweats with lavender circles, into a dark shade of purple, just slightly off from violet, tights. His shoes were next to change, shifting from the sneakers he was known to wear into light purple, jester slippers that jingled faintly as he shifted from two small bells that sat at the tip of the curve. Then, as Gamzee twirled his clubs in his hands, from his back ballooned not two wings, like most God Tiers had, but instead ten, crystalline purple gossamer wings. Each a size smaller, down his back, with the topmost and largest two jaggedly torn into with ":o(" and "(o:".

 _The Mirthful Messiah's_.

Gamzee laughed even harder, arcs of purple lightning dancing across his clothes and skin and clubs, teasing the Ninjairates that crouched, warily, before him. He twirled his clubs, and bowed mockingly.

“I think its time to play, motherfuckers,” Gamzee said, his voice taking a rough tone. Kanaya felt rage build up, inside her pan, as beside her the Disciple tensed with narrowed eyes. “ _Don't you motherfuckin' think so too_?”

Kanaya pushed down the rage that was growing; almost appreciatively she said, “The Bard of Rage.”

The next second Gamzee let loose a frightening laugh and launched at the Ninjairates, and like a spell had been broken Kanaya shook her head sharply, a chill sliding down her back. She tugged on the Disciple's arm, hissed, “Gamzee can take care of himself! We need to go!” and both her and the adult Troll ran off into the comforting cover of the trees.

Kanaya hoped that, by the time Gamzee would finally find them, he would not attempt to kill them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah. This wasn't a happy chapter. Spinneret went off the deep end; she would be spewing eights like they were going out of style if this were in pesterchum/trollian format. I wholly do not approve of the shit she pulled.. Then Gamzee went sexy God Tier.
> 
> Ninjairates, by the way, I give total credit to FlipSpring and her story Heaven's Forge. I just kinda...jacked it from there. It sounded way cool, and my head was going "Ninjas, TK, NINJAS FIGHTING A GOD TIER GAMZEE!" and poof, Ninjas fighting God Tier Gamzee.
> 
> Granted I just jacked the name, really. Their entire job will probably differ in some respects from FlipSpring.
> 
> To be honest, I'll probably jack a lot of job names (if not the ideas) from a lot of good works of Homestuck fanfiction. I will ALWAYS credit the fanfiction and author(s) when I do. Same for any images that make me go "Ooooh, I like that look" and whatnot.
> 
> As for WHY Gamzee's God Tier got a make-over, well...as awesome his whole outfit is (and guys, it seriously is canon because guess what? The Bard of Hope was wearing it too; check out the newest update stuff and you'll see what I mean) its just...seriously fucking hilarious and not like "Ima gonna beat the living shit outta you and look badass while doing it rar" of which I was imagining. So I beefed his God Tier for the purposes of this story.
> 
> FYI, Gamzee's God Tier is a combination of three images; two fanart, and the original outfit as decreed by Hussie--referenced through a third fanart picture. Links to where I found them above as credit to their creations. I forwent placing titles and authors names for, well, attempting to hide the badass God Tier outfit until I described the damn thing >>


	5. Chapter 5

Karkat couldn't be sure how much time he spent soaking the rag and wiping the Dolorosa down. She remained steadily silent and still, her pupils still dilated. He thought that perhaps she'd fallen into shock, but then again he didn't know a thing about medicine at all. The only thing he could do boiled down to acting like a lusus, or an auspistice, or even a moirail. The thought of being her moirail of course rubbed him wrong; cheating on Gamzee definitely didn't set well with Karkat.

Eventually, though, the Dolorosa came back to herself. The process started slowly; her breathing returned to normal first, and then her pupils shrunk back down a more normal circumference. Then, next, she began to move. Karkat could see that every move she made pained her; the Marquise's boot had snapped a rib or a two. Still, she sat up, and then she sighed.

“We leave tonight,” she said to Karkat. Her lips were pulled tight in an effort of forced control.

Karkat shook his head, “Your injured; we'd be caught within moments.”

The Dolorosa didn't look at Karkat, not directly. She kept her head in the direction of the far wall, Karkat at her side. She looked at him out of the corner of her eyes only and breathed in slow, measured steps.

“I have run with a fussy wiggler, ill, and a broken leg and survived. This in comparison is very little.”

“You've lost blood,” Karkat pointed out. “You have at least one broken rib. And you....” he bit his lip with his dull teeth and then snapped, “You were just raped, brutally.”

The Dolorosa's breath hitched for a moment and then resumed its forced pattern again. “If we wait a day longer,” she said slowly, “then the moment is wasted. Mindfang will have that much of a quicker chance to catch up to us, and to realize I have gone missing. She will leave me be for a day at the most. If we leave tonight, despite my state, then we have a day's head start. We're three days from the docks, on a portion of the sea that I know fairly well. Two days due east is a cliffside that the Sea-dweller's don't watch, due to the dangers it poses for themselves and anyone foolish to sail in the area. There is a cave system there that on high tide is overtaken by the ocean. Currently it is low tide for this side of Alternia, and will remain such for at least a perigee. That cave leads further inland into a network of caves that connect to the Mother Grub's current hatching caverns. As long as we stick to those caves for half a perigee and no more, we should be fine.”

“It leads to the desert?” Karkat asked. His lips tugged into a frown and he brought a hand up to his chin in thought.

“Yes,” the Dolorosa replied. Karkat sighed.

“Fine, but you're going to drink first,” he told her, and then shoved his wrist under her nose.

The Dolorosa froze in shock. She offered up a weak and somewhat plaintive, “What?” and Karkat rolled his eyes.

“Kanaya is a rainbow drinker,” he stated. “I know how to recognize the signs. Drink enough to heal the most that you feel wouldn't hinder our escape, and I'll agree to your sorry excuse for a plan.”

They remained still in tense silence for a moment. Then the Dolorosa leaned forward slightly; one of her hands came up and grasped Karkat's arm just before his wrist. The other uncurled his hand which hand balled up, and made sure his wrist was flat and bare. Without any need for prompting—although the temptation to tell her to get it on already became nearly overwhelming for Karkat—the Dolorosa sank her fangs into his flesh.

A part of her felt innumerable amounts of joy at the taste of blood so rare it had no listing on the hemospectrum. Karkat tasted like candy, sugary and sweet, but the warmth was near overwhelming. His blood burned like fire when it touched her mouth, to the point that she nearly pulled back in shock. The heat also soothed mere seconds after it burned. The Dolorosa never tasted something so succulent before.

A smaller part remained absolutely pleased that her grub never got to see her like this; that her Signless had died before she changed and required a fellow Trolls blood to survive. Even if it meant that she might never have been able to taste _this._

After about a minute the Dolorsa pulled back and licked her lips. Karkat watched as the superficial cuts and gashes on her skin began to knit back together until she appeared unblemished once more. The elder troll sighed and got to her feet. She rummaged through the dresser silently, partially to embarrassed to speak to the pupa in her presence. Karkat didn't break the silence either, instead he stared at his wrist in contemplation; the Dolorosa didn't leave a wound behind.

It took another fifteen minutes for the Dolorosa to finish rummaging through the dresser. She tossed garments and necessities into a sack and laid out a long cloak on the bed. Finally she dressed herself; the material overflowed with jade and black with the barest hint of red. In her few precious moments of free time the Dolorosa sewed. Her first sweep on this ship she sewed the outfit before her, and for the first time she would wear it now.

She tugged on the top first; it fit snugly around her bust. Jade lines made out of silk ran down the sides in a parody of the top of the Signless' pants. It formed an inverted v-neck at the top and remained tight until her waist. There the fabric changed from cloth and silk to pale green netting. The netting flowed outward, ballooning down bast her hips until about her knees. At her hips the material split on both sides.

Next she pulled on a pair of pants, also lined up the sides in green silk. They were tight and form-fitting black, a reminder again of the Signless' own pants that, for some unfathomable reason, he insisted had to go up to his chest. The Dolorosa never understood his fashion sense. After the pants she pulled on what looked like a neck-piece, woven in lace, except that the lace connected to hard leather shoulder pads that jutted out from her shoulders the slightest bit. The shoulder pads themselves were connected to a pair of sleeves, intermingling black and green that rested snug against her arms. The sleeves went all the way down until they looped over her middle finger and thumb.

The Dolorosa curled and uncurled her hand; she watched as the fabric mimic the movement expressionlessly.

The back of her neck-piece had a slight cape-like attachment, fitted in the same green netting aside from the one, bright candy pattern that swirled into a fancy 69 that could easily just be mistaken as an accidental pair of loops. On her feet the Dolorosa pulled on a pair of Gamblignant boots that she'd stolen a while back, and then she tugged on a dark black cloak with maroon stitching in the hood to mark where her horns could safely slip through.

Karkat's eyes widened as the Dolorosa turned and fitted him with the smaller cloak, a pair of gloves, and a cowl to cover up part of his face. The peace keeping adult from legends appeared like a woman ready to fight with the simple wardrobe change. After a second of fussing with Karkat, the Dolorosa wanted to be sure that everything fit snugly and he wouldn't accidentally burn in the sun, she stepped back, grabbed her pack, and then clasped Karkat's hand tightly.

“Stay close to me,” she said, and Karkat nodded once. 

Together they vanished from the Gamblignant ship as daylight began to crest the horizon.

* * *

 

The Disciple and Kanaya made it to the entrance of the caves not even two days later. Foliage had grown over mouth, effectively hiding it from searching patrols unless you knew they were there. Since the Hatching Caverns were sacred to the jade class, they were kept on the highest need-to-know status available. Most of the caverns of this area could be found beneath the sands of the great desert, where most of the Jade class settled to live.

These caverns were more then a century's worth of sweeps old. The Disciple sometimes toyed with the idea that they were the same caverns that Her Imperious Condescension hatched from. At either rate they were crumbling and vastly unstable now.

For a moment Kanaya and the Disciple paused to rest; they spent the last two days in their entirety running. Neither troll stopped to rest, and when dawn hit the treeline they didn't make shelter. Instead the Disciple pulled the remains of the Signless' cloak tight around her and they kept on running.

As Kanaya pulled out a small meal for the two of them, the Disciple warred with herself on confronting the younger troll about her decision two days ago. Kanaya's decision had left one of their party behind to their death, and if the Disciple understood the situation correctly then that party member _just happened to be the moirail of the heir to her beloved's legacy_.

The Disciple took a deep breath, and finally spoke through the silence. “Why did you leave him fur?”

Kanaya sighed. “If we stayed with Gamzee we would have become targets for the Ninjairates as well, not to mention run the risk of becoming Gamzee's targets too. He was beyond any reasoning.”

“He is purrecious to the second Signless!” the Disciple spat out, her hands curling into claws.

Kanaya frowned, “Don't call Karkat--”

A loud crunch came from the mouth of the cave, past the thick green growth that covered the entrance. Purple light shimmered through a few cracks. Gamzee brushed aside the growth, covered in blue blood and still dressed as a God. The wings at his back fluttered and he grinned in a way that clearly showed the lack in sanity. His eyes were back to the dark orange tint they gained when the Disciple first met them.

“Don't motherfucking call Karkat what?” he asked as the growth swung back into place. In his hand was a bottle filled with a cerulean blue liquid. He tossed the bottle to Kanaya. “Well?”

Kanaya caught the bottle, surprised. She sniffed it once and her eyes grew wide. This was _troll_ blood. “Gamzee where did you get this?” she asked. She uncorked the bottle and swallowed down a large gulp without warning.

“Karkat told me how to recognize the fucking signs, sister,” Gamzee replied. “Who else do you think kept leaving you bottles to drink? _The motherfucking mirthful messiahs?_ ” Kanaya blushed.

“I didn't think to mention...” she said.

“Next time why don't you just fucking tell me when you're getting your thirst on,” Gamzee pointed out. “ _I've got plenty more where that motherfucking came from_. You just have to ask. Now... _don't motherfucking call Karkat what fucker?_ ”

The Disciple frowned; she could smell the trolls blood in the bottle and it lefter her very confused. She opened her mouth to demand why the younger Dolorosa seemed pleased to have trolls blood to drink. She didn't understand their conversation at all, really, when Kanaya replied, her voice tight.

“She called him the second coming of the Signless,” Kanaya barely held back a growl.

“So?” Gamzee asked lazily and settled down on a protruding rock.

“Just because his caste symbol--”

“The kittybitch is motherfucking right, wicked sister,” Gamzee interrupted. Kanaya went still. “My pale brother happens to be the second coming of the mirthful past. Best you wise up now and realize this wicked truth, lest it will hurt you later. Or did you think my showing his symbol was just a pan-rotted decision?”

Kanaya eyed Gamzee appraisingly. This troll before her shared similarities with the sopor-addled boy she'd met years ago, but they were just that: similarities. She'd already learned on this perigee and a half long journey that the Gamzee she knew, and this Gamzee, differed greatly. This Gamzee used his pan, instilled a sense of loyalty, and acted in a manner that often confused what Kanaya knew of the Capricorn. She started out trusting him only as far as she could throw him, and now she found herself wondering if that had been smart of her in the first place.

“I did believe it was a result of pan-rot and that our ensuing luck was just that, luck,” Kanaya said after a minute. “Was I mistaken?”

“Yes,” Gamzee growled.

Kanaya bowed her head. “I apologize.”

Gamzee nodded once and relaxed into a slouch. “Drink up your blood, now. Don't want no motherfucking rainbow drinker rage or some such bullshit. I'm a Bard, not a Thief, can't steal that back when you get it on.” Gamzee's gaze slid to the Disciple who remained half-frozen with her claws curled. Her face was slack in surprise. “You know our way out of these caverns right? We ain't got much time to get our rest on. Them fucking Ninjairates probably found the corpses already.”

“And they don't care enough about their littermates to let their prey get away beclaws of feline's,” the Disciple said, standing up straight and working her fingers out until they were loose to begin with. “We can lose them in these caves if we're smart. Especially if we trap them here furever....”

Gamzee nodded and raised his gaze to the ceiling of the gave. “It's not motherfucking weak enough here. _We need to get further fucking in kittybitch if we're gonna trap some hemoist motherfuckers._ ”

Kanaya remained silent, but only because she really didn't know what she could contribute to the conversation. It looked weird, seeing Gamzee and the Disciple collaborating together, and especially to see Gamzee so lucid. She hadn't realized what being off the sopor had done to him, aside from increase the likelihood that he would murder them all. Except Karkat, or even the thought of Karkat, seemed to keep those impulses well in hand. She sighed.

“If we are to do as you plan, then we best start moving immediately. We'll have to survive off of rations until we are out of danger,” Kanaya interrupted as she placed all the foodstuffs back into the Disciples bag. She tossed the Disciple and Gamzee a simple ration bar. The Disciple eyed it oddly.

“What is this fur?” she questioned the two younger trolls.

Gamzee tore into his ration bar almost viciously. His teeth glinted in the light as he ripped through the plastic without care, or even acknowledgment of its existence. His lips curled in disgust at the taste, but he swallowed it down as quickly as he could.

“They're ration bars, from where we were before we arrived outside your cave,” Kanaya replied.

“They don't taste any fucking good, but they're the best we could get sometimes,” Gamzee replied. Kanaya looked to him rather surprised, and something seemed to click into place in her think pan. She always thought it was weird how skinny the tall Capricorn was. Gamzee shot her a warning look as the Disciple tore open the wrapper and cautiously took a taste of the ration bar. Her lips curled up and she stuck her tongue out in disgust.

“Yuck,” she said, and tossed the rest of the bar down her throat. The three trolls looked to each other, nodded once, and quickly absconded further into the cave. They weren't out of danger yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I so want to draw Dolorosa's outfit, but I'm pants at art. Anyone wish to draw it for me?


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by the following pictures [1](http://minimumwagehistorian.files.wordpress.com/2012/04/ninja2.jpg) | [2](http://img3.visualizeus.com/thumbs/94/85/death,d%C3%ADa,de,los,muertos,face,paint,mask,woman-9485a67eb88265e1736d401784651801_m.jpg) | [3](https://sphotos-a.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-snc7/377560_3649679050168_1205568840_n.jpg)

He shakes and shivers and curls into a ball of terror. He can still hear everything and it makes this experience oh so worse. He isn't strong or brave, but right now he wants to be. He wants to feel something other than fear so that he can stand up, brave and furious, and save her from this torment. Except he cant. He tries to muster the fury, the anger and bluster that he always has but its just not there anymore.

All there is is terror and he shakes and shivers and _listens._ It tears at him, his weakness. He cries bright tears of candy red and he thinks _oh god oh god do something you miserable fuck do something like you should have done with Terezi oh god oh god._

The next thing he knows his mind goes blank, his shakes and his shivers still and he uncurls from the ball on the wooden slab. In his hand materializes his scythes from his strife deck, first as a card and then physically into his palms. They are solid, comforting, and ice cold. He feels nothing as he shifts on the bed, inches to where he can see them, see _her_ there doing those unspeakable acts.

Then he's flying, a chilling battle cry falling from his lips and his eyes wide in madness. He wields his scythes with deadly proficiency. He only gets the few slices on _her_ flesh because _she's_ surprised, more than any of his skills with his weapon of choice. At least _her_ grip lessens, and _she_ drops the other to focus instead on him.

He hears _her_ whisper, _her_ gaze right to his tracks of tears and the flush to his cheeks, “ _A mutant?_ ” as he swings to lash at _her_ again, still screaming something awful. By now _her_ shock fades, and _she_ reacts quicker than he can even process.

He stops, mid motion. At first he isn't feeling anything, his limbs are just paralyzed, then heavy, then limp. His gaze blackens at the edges and behind _her_ he sees the other troll. Jade green eyes are wide in horror.

The last thing he hears before the black is all-consuming is a sharp, auricular sponge clot shattering, scream of his name.

“Oh _god_ did that really just _happen?_ ”

The world split itself in two. Karkat stared down at the corpse of himself as the entire scene faded away. It was setting up to repeat—the danger of these dream bubbles. They made his daymares so much more _worse_ because now they were _real_ in a way they weren't before.

“ _Oh come on!_ I asked you a fucking question oh illustrious leader!”

“I would think the answer was pretty fucking obvious since you can see it right in front of that horrific thing you call a face, Vriska,” Karkat finally uttered. “Or has being dead suddenly made you goddamn blind?” His tone surprisingly wasn't scathing, like Vriska was used to. It seemed oddly dead, actually. Disensitized.

“Your dreams are so weird,” Virska laughed, high pitched and screeching. Karkat withheld a flinch.

“Spiderbitch, use your goddamn eyes,” Karkat sighed. “It's not just a dream.”

Vriska laughed again, only this time her voice seemed to be tinged with almost hysterical denial. “Oh _please_ Karkat its obviously a dream! You _couldn't_ have been there for real!”

Before their eyes the very scene reset itself, the blood vanished, and the corpse stood. Vriska gasped as she caught sight of the corpses eyes—pure, dead white like her own.

“But that--” Vriska looked between the dead Karkat, who walked toward the approximate space where the bed had been, to the very much alive Karkat whose blood pigment had only just began to break through the pupa gray.

Karkat shoved his hands into his pants and hunched. The cloak shifted with the movement, fluttering from behind his shoulders to sweep closed like a pair of curtains. The hood was down, and for the first time Vriska seemed to realize something was completely off with this picture.

Karkat grumbled, “Finally,” as the bed materialized back into existence. Dead Karkat clamored up on top of it without a sound.

“That's _impossible_ ,” Vriska breathed, and the scene finally reset entirely. She stared, horrified, and they both watched it all again. Karkat said nothing, and eventually he closed his eyes. He waited. “This is impossible!” Vriska snapped. “Stop doing this Karkat! Stop it stop it stop it stop it!” She turned on him, she reached out to slap some sense into him, but Karkat stepped out of her reach.

He opened his eyes and pinned her with a look, “I can't fucking stop it you nookstain.” They fell into silence, both tried to ignore the sounds and the scene. “I can't ever fucking escape it either. So _yes_ Vriska. It fucking happened. Now hit me so I can fucking wake up from this goddamn nightmare already, and you can go on with you're stupid little grubhunt.”

Karkat stood stock still as Vriska swung a punch at him. He woke up on cold stone, surrounded by darkness except for the faintest glow of the Dolorosa's skin. A slight smirk curled at his lips; Vriska probably hadn't even realized she hit him until after she'd hit him. After a minute, he sighed, closed his eyes, and then stood up as silent as he could. Karkat made sure to tug the hood of his cloak up; after a quick glance to the Dolorosa, perhaps for reassurance or to soothe the terror of reliving that moment again, even if it ended differently, Kakart took off. The dawn might be rising here soon, he'd have to find an entrance to check.

As he walked, Karkat thought back to how he got here, now, when not even a perigee ago he'd been aboard a Gamblignant ship.

Their escape hadn't been anything fancy. It happened during the daylight; Karkat and the Dolorosa moved quickly across the deck to get one of the few life boats over and off the ship. The only remotely tricky part of their escape remained in Karkat keeping his sensitive flesh safely hidden beneath layers of sun cloth. Other than that no troll had been on deck—for who would in their right mind be awake during the day—not even _seatrolls_ made rounds in the sunlight.

A watchman did exist, however, so the Dolorosa and Karkat moved quick. They had to get overboard, in the boat, and a fair distance away before the watchman noticed. Their escape ended rather anticlimactically, actually, and it made Karkat just a bit wary for when the other shoe would drop.

It took two days of near straight rowing to get them to the cliffs, which Karkat did most of. The Dolorosa still had a few broken ribs. He didn't mind it so much as it kept him from sleeping, and Karkat didn't like sleep. His daymare point in case for why.

They had abandoned the boat at the cliffs and scrambled into the cave. Karkat started to head further in immediately but when the Dolorosa didn't follow he turned back around, and paused. She stood there, dressed like a warrior princess. Her arms were crossed, wrapped around herself in a slight hug, as she stared down into the waters below.

The Dolorosa stood tall, though, her face practically an unreadable mask. She stood stiff, and as Karkat inched closer he realized her gaze remained firmly on the boat they traveled in. It bobbed, and crashed, against pointed rocks and dangers that had taken them nearly an hour to maneuver around. Slowly the boat broke apart, and most of it sank beneath the surface. Only a few of the boards remained flowing with the waves.

Dolorosa then turned and smiled. “Let us go,” she said, and had ushered Karkat further into the caverns.

They spent twenty-four days, hurriedly moving during daylight and nightlight, sleeping light and little. Mindfang, the Dolorosa told Karkat once, had determination in spades. The minute she realized where the Dolorosa would run to, she'd be all over the place, supposed danger or not. So they kept moving, kept running. Only when they were so far inland that not even the smell of the sea, the sound of water on rocks echoing down the cave walls, could be felt, heard, or smelt anymore did they begin to slow down.

This brought them to now; their guard relaxed a bit, close to the desert. Three days run to the west of their current position rested the Hatching Caverns. A jade blood watched the Mothergrub and young grubs there. The tunnels Karkat and the Dolorosa camped in would eventually flood with lusii looking for grubs to raise. Until then the tunnels themselves were relatively safe for a hiding place.

Karkat paused mid-step when he caught the fluttering end of a grey cloak. He glanced down at his own cloak, and then back up. The flash of grey curled around a corner and disappeared. For a moment Karkat remained perfectly still, and then he moved. His steps were measured, one foot sliding along the stone as he kept a precarious balance. With a thought the card for his scythes popped up out of his strife deck to rest comfortably against his palm. Another thought would turn the weapons from a card, into solid reality, but for now Karkat kept them as they were.

Grey on Alternia meant neutral, anonymous. Grey happened to be one of the few neutral colors that a troll could legally wear. Grey, black, and white were the three neutral colors; Grey meant anonymous and most trolls that didn't desire to broadcast their hemotype used grey. Black was standard, solid, and neutral. Most pupae shirts started out in black, with their hemocaste symbol dyed in their blood pigment. White was unusual, and typically seen amongst Troll Goths. From his time observing the humans, Karkat likened trolls use of white to the humans use of black.

Aside from the three neutral colors, a troll was permitted to wear only the color of their hemotype. The only exceptions were if a lowblood had a highblood moirail, auspistice, matesprit, or kismesis. In that case then the lowerblooded troll was permitted to wear the color of the higherblooded troll in their quadrant _as long as the article of clothing was a gift form their partner._ Nepeta's bright blue hat, tail, and claws were all gifts from Equius. Karkat could remember the conversation they had over one of the chat sights when she and Equius had first entered the quadrant together. The hat, tail, and weapon had been courting gifts from the blueblood. They were meant to show that Nepeta was protected, and warn others that killing her meant enraging another troll higher on the hemospectrum.

The sharing of items in a partner trolls blood color happened most commonly between moirails, to the point that society had evolved to consider it a sign of moirallegience, and moirallegience courtship. That didn't mean that there weren't trolls out there who shared an entirely different quadrant sharing clothing of in their partners blood color, though.

Karkat shook those thoughts away, buried them back into the depths of his pan. He needed to focus, not wander down relationship lane right now. He could contemplate the vastness of quadrants and all that they entailed when he was dead. It would be a lot safer than doing so while on Alternia in a time where another troll seeing his face could end up _causing him and anyone who met him to be culled._ He shifted the card in his palm lightly as he came on the corner, and breathed in deep as quietly as he dared. Karkart rounded the corner in one, swift move.

There was a moment of silence; Karkat stared and stood utterly still. For a second his body remained tense, but then the card slipped back into his strife deck and his limbs loosened. He still stood stock still, taking in the sight of the other Troll practically lounging against the cave wall. Grey cloak, black pants, bright candy-red stripes up the sides and across the waist almost like a belt. Two knives were holstered along one leg—one on the thigh, one on the shin. A sword rested on the others hip, the hilt covered in sharp barbs. The strap that connected to the sheath for the sword swung up to just under where the ribcage would end; there a loop curled and held a scythe in place. Finally two guns were holstered comfortably at the crook of each elbow, rested in died grey leather.

The edges of the grey cloak was caught over the butt of one of the guns while the other side hung at an angle, probably from the other troll shifting. It still hid his hands from view, as they rested comfortably at the other trolls sides. The hood of the cloak was up, although a hole was made for two very familiar nubby horns, made even more apparent because the obviously adult troll had their head bent just a bit.

Karkat sighed. “I should have fucking known.”

The other troll smiled and uncrossed their legs. They pushed off from the wall and the cloak shifted with the movement to fall shut, hiding the weapons from view.

“Hey, pupa,” the other troll said. “Finally we get the chance to meet. Gotta say, you're a bit...crankier than I would have thought you'd be.”

Karkat gnashed his teeth. “And your horns are fucking nubier close up, fuckass.” The other chuckled, and brought his hands up to form Karkat's caste symbol with a somewhat goofy grin. His wrists were charred black.

“Who woulda thought that painful experience would be important down the road. Kinda makes dying all worth it, in the end,” the other said. Karkat huffed, but likewise brought his hands up in the same symbol.

A sign of respect.

“Would have done me a huge fucking favor if you kept your goddamn mouth shut and your head down like any other self-respecting nookstain off the hemospectrum,” Karkat replied, “you pitiful excuse for an Ancestor.” They lowered their hands. 

“Well aren't you just a pathetic ball of suck for a Descendant now?” the Signless said, his lips quirked up in a smirk. “Can't believe I worked my ass off to keep _your_ shitstain of an existence still existing.”

* * *

 

Gamzee and the Disciple hauled the last rock into place, carefully positioned atop a precariously tilted lip in the cave ceiling. Kanaya found the spot that would be perfect for the ambush—for Gamzee's plan. The entire thing over all happened to be very simple. Gamzee would stand ready, with a glowing Kanaya at his side. The Disciple would hide within the shadows of the cavern wall and wait.

When the Ninjairates finally made their appearance, and in this cave system they would not be able to hide, Gamzee would crack his clubs against the walls as hard as he can. If the clubs didn't work, then he'd use a spring-loaded hammer that Karkat alchemized up for him back on the meteor. Feasibly this would make the rocks come tumbling down, entrapping the ninjairates and three dissidents together.

This would be followed by another slaughter, but thankfully no more ninjairates on their trail. The only worrying thing about this entire plan was if they had any psychic highbloods amongst the ninjairate number. For some of them, the Disciple could be low enough on the hemospectrum to be affected. Gamzee seemed not too worried though, and Kanaya guessed that perhaps his chucklevoodoo's could counteract the other psychic in some way.

Kanaya shuddered. Every troll feared the subjuggulators and their chucklevoodoo's.

The trio slipped into place, and began to wait. Thankfully it didn't take too long. Kanaya's glowing skin and Gamzee's fluorescent wings were practically a beacon to their shadow stalking enemies. Within minutes a whole platoon of Ninjairates appeared, dressed in bright cerulean, blue, and even a rare few teal.

Kanaya clutched her lipstick tightly and dimmed her glow. Gamzee's mouth twisted up into a wicked grin, showing all teeth as he swung his clubs lazily in his hands. They waited.

Out of the throng stepped one troll who clothed in a frightening shade of _subjuggulator indigo._ Kanaya's breath hitched, for a moment as her pupils thinned from latent fear. Gamzee let loose a dark chuckle at the adult. This obviously was the platoon leader.

She was dressed similar to her ninjairate underlings; the black clothes that reminded Gamzee of human ninjas. On her shoulders were serrated armor pads; they could be just effective of a weapon as blades in hands. From her wrist to her elbow was a second helping of serrated armor, a portion wicked sharp up past her elbow and stained with a myriad of trolls blood; The arm guard was connected by thick, metallic straps to her arm, with two points that connected to her pointer and ring finger. Her gloves were indigo purple, with slight metallic guards along her knuckles.

The pants were baggy and loose, to allow for movement, until her knees where a plate of armor sat with her caste symbol engraved upon the center. Like with her arms and her shoulders her shins were covered in serrated armor along the outer edges, with a dangerous point up by her knee. There were two gleaming metallic circlets that connected the shinguard to her leg, and bright indigo wraps that bound the last of her pants down tight. She had on the typical sandals, the sash dyed in her blood color, and the decorative waist piece that had her caste symbol in bright indigo. Her pants likewise held the pattern of her platoon squad, also in bright indigo, flagrantly on display.

However, unlike her underlings the indigo blood leader did not have a tight, black undershirt that wound up and covered her face aside from her eyes, or the hood that rested snug, but still loose enough, that tucked into a large, upstanding color. She even lacked the rebreather, bathed in the blood color of its owner, that settled over the mouth and tip of the nose, atop of the tight fitting underclothes.

Instead she had on an intricate death mask, and like Gamzee her lips her pulled back into a grin full of teeth, dangerously wicked. Behind her, the platoon shifted almost nervously. They waited for her to speak.

The indigo stepped forward, then crouched down. She was more than double Gamzee's height. At her side her fingers twitched like she wanted to reach out and grasp Gamzee, perhaps by the chin. Instead she let out a sharp whoop, and then a chuckle.

“Look at you, little wiggler, baby subjuggulator,” she crowed. “Your cute little mask, hair all a mess, and your motherfucking ensamble. Look at you.” Her eyes raked down Gamzee's form, the indigo in them seeming to shine. “What type of motherfucking symbol be this, little wiggler? It ain't your caste. Fucking crime to hide your caste.” she asked, and quicker than most other trolls she tapped him twice on the chest, on the Symbol of Rage.

Gamzee didn't whoop back; he wouldn't whoop at a blasphemer and right now this bitch was looking more and more like some blasphemous motherfucker. Aside him Kanaya was stiff, fighting back fear and terror. Gamzee shifted subtly to protect her, hide her, even as he addressed this lowly whore.

“I can wear what I motherfucking please, bitch face,” Gamzee drawled. “Ain't no fucking indigo higher than me. Call me _your prince-that-was, your god in fucking flesh, your mother fucking bard of rage_ and get on your _knees._ ” He lashed out with a sharp kick, the wings at his back flapped almost pleased. The adult didn't know how to react as one second she was crouching, the next she was kneeling without her own consent.

Behind her the platoon chattered, shocked. They made sharp clicks and faint hisses in the back of their throats; grubtalk. The indigo in front of Gamzee growled, a whirling clicking sound deep in the back of her throat. With a screech she unhooked a sickle scythe from her back and swung. Gamzee stood still; he didn't bother to move. He knew he'd tugged the rage from her pan right into the fore, turned that squishy membrane in between her eyes even more rotted than his own. She intended to swing wide, and high, but she swung close and even instead. This made the slice that would have taken off his head for the perceived offense, and wasn't that just hilarious in itself, instead cut through his shirt and into the softness of his belly.

Gamzee didn't move, even as his innards threatened to spill out the newly made hole. The indigo before him laughed, sharp and whooping and pleased. She started to say, “Foolish little wiggler, baby grub, now you're dead!” except the words died in her throat when she saw the death cut stitch back together.

Even the clothes mended, revealing no cut at all. The ninjairates behind her went deathly silent. Gamzee smashed his club against the indigo's skull, knocking her to the ground. Gamzee cackled, high and full of sharp clicks. He raised one hand and dug his fingers into the scars across his face. They were sharpened into deadly points and sliced through the thick of his skin like butter. Mouth open into a wide, insane grin as his eyes darkened into a near rustic red, Gamzee dragged his claws down his face, along the line of his scars. Deep, dark, cold indigo blood dripped steadily down. It was a shade higher than the adult crumpled and dazed before him.

Still laughing a screeching cackle, ignoring how terrified Kanaya and the Disciple were behind him, Gamzee dipped the pad of one of his finger into the blood on his face and drew his caste symbol upon the ninjairate platoon leaders forehead.

“That,” he said, eking out rage and chucklevoodoo's like it was childs play, “is _my motherfucking caste symbol you blasphemous bitch._ ” Before Gamzee, behind the stunned indigo, the Ninjairates backed up a step as one. They recognized the symbol of the Grand Highblood himself, that self-same shade of blood and looping curl.

They knew _his_ rage, so potent, and _his_ chucklevoodoo's, so terrifying, and that was when they knew this boy before them would, and could, kill them all dead. With a screeching whoop, Gamzee smashed his clubs against the wall and the rocks came tumbling down. The slaughter had begun.

When it ended, Kanaya was kneeling between corpses, covered in bright blue, and shimmering teal, siphoning blood into bottles for later. The Disciple stood behind Gamzee, worry shining in her green gaze, as he knelt before the beaten and bloodied Ninjairate platoon leader. Indigo stared up into breaking indigo, wary but curious.

“Why cull a motherfucking sister,” she rasped. “Why bleed one of your blood?”

Gamzee stared back at her, his face blank and his eyes a burnt orange, almost bordering to crimson. He could feel his sanity slipping, growing worse, but he clasped the shreds as he replied, “Indigo is the most wicked of colors, miraculous; I would never cull a sister, but a blasphemous fuck like you? One who follows His Grand Dishonerable fucking Highblood? That blasphemous motherfucker who twists our miracles and truth? I'd cull that fucker quick, slow, and paint wicked miracles in their blood.”

She pointed a finger at him, and sneered, “You are the blasphemer.” Her hand shook. Gamzee laughed.

“No, pathetic sister, I ain't no blasphemous bitch. I opened my eyes, stared back at the rot in my pan, and found the miraculous truth. We fucked up, we've been fucked by a tyrian usurper, a twisted tyranny, a _lying motherfucking whore who wants to promote our unduly end from this existence._ One who follows not the Messiahs of Mirth, the Angels of Double Death, but instead follows the liars, the cheaters, the ones _that want to bring our Dark Carnival long before its due._ The enemy won the war we all fight once; culled our messiahs and our angels, but no more. They've come again, born again, and this time we'll beat those motherfuckers back and _we'll end this miserable excuse for a time long past, long destroyed, and long mother fucking abandoned_. We'll bring it new, and bright, and stop the unmirthful, the unfaithful, the blasphemous liars from their stranglehold on that which is ours.”

Gamzee stood up, he lofted his club high. She stared back, and asked one question. “Who?”

“I am the motherfucking indigo prince-that-was, the protector, the guardian, the keeper, the Bard of His Rage, the everything and all for the soothsayer, the Messiahs of Mirth, Prince-That-Should-Be of Candy Bright, the Blood Heir, the Blood Knight—our moirallegience was foredestined foreplanned, foreshadowed _and with his motherfucking will we shall beat back the end until its time is Right._ ”

A tear slipped down the trolls cheek, just seconds before Gamzee clubbed her head in one last time. The club clattered to the ground a second later and Gamzee bowed his head, wings drooping down.

“Rest well, my sister of Mirth, for in the end you saw the miraculous fucking truth,” he said once, and then turned.

The Disciple and Kanaya watched him walk off, shocked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter, perhaps, was the most confusing thing of this story you will read. The reason? Because both Gamzee and Karkat refuse to tell you what is going on, or even explain to others. Simply put...they're being mysterious assholes.
> 
> What's up with Karkat, Karkat will eventually be forced to explain. Gamzee...Gamzee will probably beat around the bush and talk in weird ass metaphors that make no sense. So I'll just put this out there: Gamzee has had a fundamental shift in his religious beliefs, or more to the point...a correction or revealed clarity of them. This happened after he got sober. Before that Gamzee was aware of his place, aware of who might be important players in it (especially after they entered Sgrub) but that knowledge was fogged over by the Sopor until after he went Sober and Karkat shush'ed and pap'ed his ass into submission.
> 
> And yes, his beliefset is surrounded by Karkat. More about the Church of the Mirthful Messiah's (both iteration that the Grand Highblood / Kurloz Makara believe in, and Gamzee's own interpretation) shall eventually be explained...also by Karkat.
> 
> In the meantime, enjoy Karkat randomly running into the Signless (how, you might ask? It might not be what you think...) and enjoy Gamzee talking with another Indigo.
> 
> By the way, I picture Ninjairates wearing [this outfit](http://minimumwagehistorian.files.wordpress.com/2012/04/ninja2.jpg). All decorative bits on the pants and that odd sash/loincloth thing would be the design of the Ninjairate Platoon--because yes, they work in platoons of devillish ninja work. The silver on the upper, bare arm would also be a metallic version of their platoon symbol practically seared into their skin. All clothes otherwise would be pitch black except the gloves whihc would be in their blood color, and the symbol of their caste on the knee parts and at the bottom of the loincloth thing, and they'd be wearing a rebreather over their mouths on top of black cloth in the color of their blood too.
> 
> The Platoon Captain, the Indigo blood, also has [this](http://img3.visualizeus.com/thumbs/94/85/death,d%C3%ADa,de,los,muertos,face,paint,mask,woman-9485a67eb88265e1736d401784651801_m.jpg) as a death mask/paint for her face. Out of her entire platoon, she's the only one that doesn't meticulously clean her armor. Why is she not a Subjuggulator? I'm of the opinion that female indigo's go into another class of job entirely (Ninjairates being one of them) while males are atypically a Subjuggulator.
> 
> This spreads the Indigo bloods around, and cements their influence among Troll society, allowing them to encompasse all in their Chucklevoodoos, causing the daymares and subjugation of the entirety of Troll society as per the whims of the current Empress.
> 
> I might sketch out this Indigo later, because depending on what happens she might make a reoccurance despite being dead.
> 
> Also, Ninjairates have a "pirate sash" at their waste, colored in their blood pigment.
> 
> Most Ninjairates are Blue, Cerulean, or Teal blooded. Teal for a Ninjairate is rare, as most Teal bloods go into the Legislacerator or Laughassassin career tracks. Indigo is even rarer of a class to end in the Ninjairate career track--female Indigos are more likely to be set for the Laughassassin career track than the Ninjairate. The common color of a Ninjairate is a Cerulean blood, as Cerulean's are likely to gain some latent psychic talent which is useful to the career track of a Ninjairate.
> 
> Spinneret would have been a Ninjairate if she hadn't chosen to pursue illegality in the life of a Gamblignant. If Virska had survived until adulthood and Alternia wasn't bombarded by meteors, then she would also have been a Ninjairate--Vriska's actually _more_ Ninjairate than her Ancestor.
> 
> ALSO! For the Signless and his multitude of weapons, see [this](http://xadohesaruvi.tumblr.com/post/36867203107/have-some-karkat-and-signless-because-i-got) random sketch of mine. And yes, that's my tumblr. Feel free to follow at your leisure if you wish.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Check at the end; I'm going to state some facts that I think need to be stated.

Once they'd acknowledge each other, and their connection to one another, they stood together in silence for a minute longer. Then the Signless made a slight motion with his hand and started walking. Karkat followed after him; they wandered through the winding, unlit caves in silence until eventually the Signless came to a stop before a small overhang that opened out to the slowly growing dawnlight.

The Signless settled down near the lips edge, legs crossed and sitting up straight and rather proper. Karkat joined him after a minute of taking in the scenery, settling down with his legs crossed as well except he slouched and began to write letters in the dust.

Far below them laid the desert. The sands were a rusty red here, and the water of the river that both could barely see was a bright and clear blue. The rock of the cave system was a mixture of burnt gold, orange, and rusted red. There were metals in this portion of the desert that were easily oxidized.

The silence settled around them again, the Signless staring out at the world from afar. He watched the dawnlight creep up over the horizon, slowly inching across the sky. They had an hour before its deadly rays could reach them. Eyes hidden beneath his hood he glanced over at Karkat and then sighed.

“You have questions for me,” the Signless stated. “Ask them.”

Karkat stopped tracing letters in the sand and looked up at the Signless. The most noticeable thing, the Signless thought, were the pupa’s eyes. Already where his pigment began to break through, and break up, the slate gray. There rested some bright candy red amongst dulled, almost rusty red. It gave Karkat's eyes an ethereal glow, one that the Signless was surprised the Dolorosa hadn't noticed yet.

“How long have you been like this?” Karkat asked, nodding to the Signless' current state. The Signless just stared at Karkat for a minute, and then sighed.

“Too long,” he replied softly and turned his head away. Karkat tilted his head, a silent question of 'how' settled between them, but the next second Karkat's eyes went wide with understanding.

“You didn't....” he trailed off, shocked. The Signless nodded; it was sharp, abrupt and almost as if his mere agreement meant something horrible. “But that...that's impossible. Why would she...?”

The Signless bowed his head and clenched his fists. “We made a deal,” he said lowly, his voice just a bit rough with some unnamed emotion. “I was wiped from history, made to never exist.” He hunched, and raised his hands to see his wrists, burnt and damaged. “In return I got a public execution, to cement that truth.”

“Why didn't you tell Porrim?” Karkat demanded. It felt good to call her by the name he knew she had; keeping his knowledge in check was hard enough with characters out of history coming to life. “She's been grieving for sweeps! She--”

“I know what happened to Mother,” the Signless interrupted almost harshly. “I know _everything_ that happened to Mother. It plagued me, in every dream, in every dayterror, I saw what happened. To my darling Meulin, to Mother, to Mituna...it haunted me, Karkat. I know what they went through.” The Signless let out a shuddering breath. “In the end...Mother found happiness, despite that it was her captor, and that eventually Dualscar who took her life in an effort to pain the gamblignant, she had peace with Mindfang for a while. It is what I inadvertently did to Meulin and Mituna that haunts me the most.”

Karkat shook, his own fists clenched. With a snarl he slung a punch at the Signless' face, knocking the older troll flat onto his back.

“ _Why would you fucking agree to that?!_ ” Karkat roared. “ _You put everyone you cared about through hell! You made them suffer, and suffer, never knowing the truth! Where the fuck is the kindly, stupid, fucking cull-worthy moronic douchebag I keep hearing about!?_ ”

The Signless laughed, bitter and broken. He spoke again, cutting between Karkat's rage with his words. “ _I had no choice!_ ” he howled. “In the end the bitch got what she wanted—me dead without kicking her off her own self-important throne. In the end she thought she _won_ but she didn't. _I_ did.” The Signless tapped the side of his head.

The Signless sat up. He ran a hand down his face and shook his head.

“I _won_ , Karkat,” he said. “I beat that bitch and even better she didn't know it. By the time she returned, and her lusus screeched out to kill the rest of our race, she hadn't realized that I'd taken _everything,_ slowly and surely. There were Sufferists on her ships, kept hidden because I had a dear, important follower _in a seat of power_. A lack of adults on Alternia merely meant that my followers could move freer and easier than ever before, leaving hints and stories for you young pupa so that maybe, one day, you'd come search them out yourselves to hear more.”

“And yet just to _win_ you gave up everything, and hurt those most dear to you,” Karkat pointed out, disgusted.

“ _I had no choice_ ,” the Signless stressed. “It was taken from me before I even knew it existed!” Karkat jerked to see the Signless' bright red eyes staring straight at him, almost broken and twisted in despair.

“Who...made the deal then?” Karkat asked.

“Really,” the Signless sighed, “what other self-sacrificing moronic troll do I know? One with no care for his own safety as long as it protects everyone he cares about?”

Karkat looked away. He understood. “Is that why...?”

“Freeing him would doom us all,” the Signless spat, his tone full of self-loathing. “She'd hunt down everyone that could have remotely been connected to me and cull them too. He'd be worse than dead; any autonomy that he has now would be stripped from him, he'd be forced through tortures worse than what he _fucking_ asked for. Then...then when you hatched and pupated she'd hunt you down too, just to cull you before you could become anything. The entire timeline—the move up to Sgrub—would be ruined. She'd win.”

Karkat looked down at the dust and traced a few letters into the sand again. He thought of Terezi, of Nepeta, Feferi, Gamzee and Sollux—shaping out their signs in the dust, imagining them in that place. He said, “I don't think I could ever do that.”

There was a beat, and then a pained smile from the Signless. “That, Karkat, is why you are the better of us.”

Karkat shook his head. He honestly didn't agree with that assessment. After everything the Signless _did_ and then the things that nobody knew of—Karkat merely united his group of friends in an effort to beat a game, and even that fell through.

After a minute of silence, slightly uncomfortable silence at that where the Signless turned towards brooding—and here Karkat had a rather hard time reconciling this adult with Kankri from Beforus, they were so _different—_ Karkat sighed and tugged out his sylladex. He rarely, after they reached the meteor, used the damn thing. Honestly he wasn't even sure why he hadn't just alchemized up another one. Still, Karkat had a purpose with this.

“Shits changed,” Karkat said, a slight, hard determination coiling towards the back of his pan. “This isn't the same Alternia you _or_ I knew.” Evidenced by the Dolorosa's rape a perigee ago, but Karkat hastily shoved those thoughts away. “Gl'bgolyb is _dead_. Not even that fuckass Lord of Time could bring back a horrorterror from the grave.”

“A horrorterror?” the Signless questioned, his eyes grew wide with complete surprise and he sat up almost ramrod straight. “That... _thing_ was a horrorterror?!”

Karkat nodded once, even as he focused on hacking through his sylladex to get to the items within. He let out a slight click of joy from the back of his throat when finally he got through the encryption. Out of his sylladex piled what looked like a small mountain of jewelry and garments. The Signless stared in surprise at the very much dominant highblood accessories.

“Where did you get these?” the Signles questioned, shifting from his position to pick up a pair of finely crafted earrings with two, bright purple gemstones dangling from the end. Karkat snatched them back with a mild huff of annoyance and pierced the earrings through each ear.

“Gamzee,” he said, his voice softer than before now. His words were obviously fond, perhaps even slightly worried. Karkat picked up two more earring sets, one that was meant as a band to wrap around the outer shell of his ear, and another that was a simple loop meant to pierce through the slightly pointed tip of the cartilage. He quickly put those in place and then rooted around through the access clothing and jewelry for something else.

“Who is Gamzee?” the Signless asked. Karkat shoot him a sharp look, one eyebrow arched and his lips pressed thin. The Signless almost flushed in response.

“You should know him,” Karkat huffed. “He was there for my fevers.”

The Signless went still, and just watched as Karkat picked up an elegantly designed facemask and wrapped it around his neck. He didn't pull it up over his nose just yet, but the Signless knew the article was placed more for practicality than for its beauty. Karkat shuffled through everything; he pulled on a set of purple armwarmers that worked as a secret sort of armor, and then tugged on a pair of fingerless gloves that had his symbol woven in brilliant purple. He added a pair of bright purple combat boots, and two rings one to his pointer finger and one to his ring finger, both set with what looked like an amethyst. The last item Karkat put on went around his neck; it was a pair of irons, like the ones that had wrapped around the Signless' wrists, only these weren't the anonymous grey, but a bright, brilliant _scarlet_. The cord itself was dyed in the same hue as the Grand Highblood.

“That should be enough,” Karkat said after a moment, and then captchalogued the rest of the pile back into his sylladex. It disappeared, and faintly the Signless could hear several locks clicking into place. Only one item remained sitting out. Karkat reached out a slightly shaking hand and picked it up.

“Is that grease paint?” the Signless asked. Karkat nodded once. The Signless shook his head, and then laughed. “Only you would become the moirail of the descendent of Kurloz.” Karkat glowered and shoved the tin into one of the few pockets on his person. He stood up; dawn had almost reached them. The sun's dangerous rays were getting far too close for his liking.

“...will you tell her?” Karkat asked hesitantly. The Signless shook his head. “Why not? Doesn't she deserve to know—especially after what she's been through now.”

“Mother is happy with you,” he said. “That is for the best.”

“For the _best?”_ Karkat huffed. “She was fucking raped you ignorant douchenozzle, by that bitch you said she'd be matesprits with.” The Signless flinched.

“She wouldn't want to see me?” The argument sounded weak even to the Signless' own spongeclots.

“She still grieves, fuckass.” Karkat turned on heel. After a second the Signless followed him back into the cave. He stared down at his wrists, contemplative 

“...I have something I need to show you,” the Signless said after a minute. Karkat paused and looked back to him; he should head back to the Dolorosa now—she'd be waking soon.

“What,” Karkat demanded.

The Signless motioned for him to follow and ducked down a winding split in the cave wall, barely visible to even their nocturnal eyes. Warily, Karkat followed after him.

* * *

 

After Gamzee walked off and left Kanaya and the Disciple alone, shocked by the display, Kanaya turned back to her siphoning of the blood from the dead trolls. The Disciple watched, her eyes wide. For a moment Kanaya could imagine Nepeta in that same place, only with her blue cats tail twitching back and forth, and her eyes filled with tears--either for Gamzee, or for what Gamzee had said, or out of fear.

“He was talking of your furriend,” the Disciple said, although her words lilted at the end into more of a question.

Kanaya paused, and turned her attention from the siphon to the Disciple for a second. Almost as quickly she looked back down to focus on her work. “I am certain that in his own way Gamzee spoke of Karkat. After all Karkat holds the title of the Knight of Blood.”

“Like my beloved was the Seer of Blood?” the Disciple questioned, twisting to look at Kanaya who actually froze. The Disciple smiled faintly, the upcurl of her lips small but still noticeable. “He always told us his dreams, about Befurrus and the Game. He painted a beautiful life, of peace and purrsperity.”

Kanaya swallowed, but nodded her head. “Yes. Karkat is our Knight of Blood. Gamzee the Bard of Rage and I am the Sylph of Space.” She moved, pulling out the siphon and unwrapping her tourniquet. With care stepped over the body, pulling her instruments with her, and started again on the other arm.

“Furrdestined, furrplanned, and furrshadowed he said,” the Disciple murmured thoughtfully.

“Gamzee tends to speak in a manner that is surprisingly affluent. It is almost lyrical at times, which I suppose fits his class specification as a Bard,” Kanaya said. “I would not think too hard upon what colorful language he chooses to use now, or in the future. It is merely Gamzee's way of communication.”

The Disciple shook her head. “That seemed more than just poetic, Kanaya. I'm pawsitive.”

Kanaya tightened off her tourniquet and set the siphon into place. “Since I have been left in close proximity to Gamzee I have observed that he does speak rather poetically of Karkat, especially when in the context of his religion. I reason that it is merely due to his pleasure at finally solidifying his and Karkat's moirallegience a sweep ago. Gamzee has for nearly five sweeps been courting Karkat, although none of our circle of friends were certain that was his intent, especially Karkat. Until recently Gamzee has not been the most clear-thought of us.”

There was a faint tap on stone, and then a soft spoken, “I was a motherfucking sopor addict.” Both Kanaya and the Disciple jerked, and turned to look where Gamzee had wandered off, and where he now stood. His clothes had changed; he no longer wore his God Tier outfit, although he kept his wings out. Perhaps to illuminate his surroundings.

“But that is dangerous!” the Disciple gasped. “You must be kitten, ingested sopor is _poison_.”

The muscles of Gamzee's face twitched, and for a moment he almost smiled but it faded away. “Yeah, kittybitch, it rots ones pan. Leaves these big motherfucking gaping holes that stare at you and deep in you. They whisper dangerous thoughts and dangerous plans and if you ain't careful they'll creep up and make the most wicked of promises, then leave you wondering what motherfucking happened. You're hazed and broken, and once the high passes you motherfucking crash and you crash hard. You stare back at those holes, and then you do what they say and go, and then you bleed because you did something horrible, something you weren't meant to but were meant to all the same.”

The Disciple asked, hesitantly, “This...catpunned to you?”

“It was my palest brother that brought me back,” Gamzee murmured and turned his head to the side with a shadow of a frown. “A shooshing and papping all that brokenness right outta me. I thought the brother mightn't not like to, hoped he'd go and cull me—the wicked thing looked it too, right ready to end my pitiful existence then and there. He had mercy and pity though, and when I could think again I realized how motherfucking wrong I was before. It all clamored home, to rest in the holes, to uncover the wicked truths and realities of what I thought were lies, turned into some beautiful mural of what it should have been all along.”

Gamzee held his tongue and bit down the urge to say more, especially when Kanaya and the Disciple looked at him so curiously. Any words he used to explain would just spill secrets that he wasn't sure Karkat wanted to unleash just yet. Karkat's secrets where his own and Gamzee didn't want to spill them without a brother's consent. Even if he reasoned that the Disciple should already be aware, having been matesprits or whatever she and Karkat's ancestor had been, Gamzee didn't wish to risk it on the off chance that the Signless had more caution in him than they realized. Instead the young subjuggulator knelt down to help Kanaya in silence, while the Disciple kept watch. Eventually the three of them continued on their route; they needed to keep moving, as movement would keep them safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, first off, if you haven't noticed there is now a little thing that says this story is First in the Candy Red Caste series. Whelp, turns out my universe and world building thoughts spanned into an entire series. There will be five stories total, aside from this one, to be written in the following order (the subsequent stories are being planned and notated on while I work on this one): Candy Red Black, Candy Red Heir, Candy Red Fate, Candy Red Extinct
> 
> Understand this, chronologically these stories take place in a different order. Black, Extinct & King plots all take place around the same time, or intersect in such ways that they are nearly impossible to consider one coming before or after the other. Heir and Fate plots are literally one right after the other. So look forward to more of this universe unfolding after King, although King has quite a ways to go (potentially).
> 
> Second note is that I've gone through and edited quite a bit, coming to the realization on some of my word choice. Nothing plot related has changed, just a word here and there.
> 
> Third note is this: I know, at first, it probably seemed like I was trying to keep Gamzee and Karkat's two positions on Alternia synchronous with one another. They are, however, not. Karkat's storyline is in fact ahead of Gamzee's storyline, and as such next chapter there will be an interesting, and sort of awkward, cross between the two. You shall see what I mean.
> 
> Eventually the two plots will synchronize together again, but that's not for some time. A part of my edits are going to be making sure I don't create that marginally lost error in my writing.
> 
> Fourth note: For an explanation on how Alternian Seasons, Perigee's, and a Solar Sweep works within this story, please go here: <http://xadohesaruvi.tumblr.com/post/39463078731/alternian-calendar-theory> (by the way this took me from 11PM to 2AM to finally puzzle out all possible kinks)
> 
> That's it for notes. Hope you enjoyed!


	8. Chapter 8

Signless led Karkat down a small and dark path. The walls in the rock face touched his shoulders the path was so small. At some point being able to see became a bit of an issue until the Signless lit up a torch. He looked back over his shoulder and gave Karkat a smile.

“Fuckass,” Karkat grumbled. The next thing he knew the ground sloped dangerously and with a yelp he nearly lost his footing.

“Careful,” Signless spoke up, a bit of a laugh in his voice. “The ground here is sloped and a bit unstable. There was a cave in a few perigee's back.”

“Thanks for the warning, ass.”

“You're welcome.”

Karkat grit his teeth and held a hand to the wall to steady himself as they made they're way down the rest of the dangerous slope. Suddenly the small path opened up. Off to one side in the distance, now with more visible light, Karkat could see the cave in that the Signless had be speaking about. It looked far more deliberate than he thought it would be.

“Don't go towards the cave in, it stinks like nobody's fucking business,” Signless said. “Besides. He's this way.”

“He?” Karkat asked. The Signless just pointed in the opposite direction of the cave in and motioned for Karkat to follow. They walked for about five minutes before Karkat caught sight of a lumpy shape. Signless said 'he' but who could 'he' be? Karkat frowned and gnashed his teeth in thought as they moved forward.

That's when Karkat saw the twin set of horns. Twin familiar horns. He stopped dead and ignored the Signless who kept moving forward until he was standing right over the now familiar lump. Signless knelt down and swept a hand over the smaller troll's face almost gentle. Karkat sucked in a sharp breath.

He could see the dried blood along the other trolls face, a faint mustardy yellow. The eyes looked like nothing but hollowed out husks. He couldn't tell from this distance, but the other troll had to be breathing shallowly or something equally worse.

“Sollux?” his voice wavered, his hands trembled. Karkat dashed forward and slid onto his knees. It was definitely Sollux. He even had Feferi's goggles still sitting over his empty sockets. Karkat's hand shook as he reached out to touch Sollux, his gaze practically disbelieving. “How?”

Signless grimaced. “I found him worse off, shortly before the cave in. I've done my best for the five perigee's since but...there isn't much else I can do. He's been in and out of consciousness.”

Sollux was breathing shallowly. He shifted and groaned in is unconscious state. Karkat sucked in another shaky breath.

“What can I do?” he demanded, looking up at the Signless.

“Get Mother,” the Signless said. “She's handled worse injuries. She'll know what to do.”

Karkat swallowed heavily. “Were you going to tell me he was here?”

“Always,” the Signless replied fervently.

“Will you be here when I return?”

“No.”

Karkat grimaced. “Will you stay with him until I return?”

“Yes,” the Signless looked up now and right into Karkat's eyes. “I swear.” Karkat nodded and bolted. He headed back the way the Signless had taken him. The Signless sighed. “Keep strong, help is coming little Psii.”

“KK?” Sollux mumbled tiredly. Signless laughed, almost bitterly.

“Not quite the 'kk' you are thinking of, pupa,”he said softly. “But he'll be here soon. Just rest.” He smoothed back a bit of Sollux's hair. He planted a kiss to Sollux's brow and murmured, “If there is one thing I do right among all my monumental fuck ups, let it be this.”

“What...?”

The Signless stood up. He could hear pounding footsteps. He took a step back and stared into the darkness further down. There was a glow of white light in the shape of a troll. “Mother...” he had to steel himself against the temptation, the fear; he breathed in deep and relaxed his hand. The torch fell to the ground. He turned and ran. He didn't look back.

* * *

_Five Perigees Ago_

A dream, that was what it was. Ever since the death of the Heiress and the creation of the Bubbles he found himself wandering the paths of memory. Honestly he didn't mind so much, perhaps it was some form of atonement for all the shit that had gone wrong. The things that he had fucked up. Letting Psii make himself a slave again, letting Mother be bound to a Gamblignant, letting his beautiful Disciple become an exile, forever heartbroken, and letting himself—letting himself tread into waters that had been best left unexplored.

At this point in his memory the Signless had let himself nearly fall into despair. He remembered wandering the empty caverns that wouldn't fill with jade trolls, a mother grub, or lusii for perigee's to come. He let himself wallow, broken and in a way defeated. It would be perigee's more before he came to his senses and found loopholes within loopholes that he could work through. Nothing seemed to have changed, aside from the bright flashes of what he thought might have been Time magic, sweeping across the Bubbles. Everything had returned right to where he could remember it, as always.

Except...the Signless paused and half turned to gaze back down the the tunnels behind him. His ears twitched faintly and his eyes narrowed. Yes, there was the sound of running footsteps. He didn't remember footsteps here. He remembered loneliness and brooding. A frown tugged at his lips, his eyes narrowed, and he tried to focus ahead. He thought he could see something glowing, small, in the distance. No, there were two things glowing. One in a troll shaped blob, the other cast odd shadows.

This was new. This was something different. _This was wrong._

With a faint curse the Signless bolted down the cave until he came to a barely visible alcove. He'd wandered the memories of the passageways for innumerable sweeps, or what had felt like innumerable sweeps, and he found this spot a few memories back. With a running jump he stretched his hands out to catch the ledge and pull himself up into the alcove. He scooted back, further down the passageway as the footsteps grew nearer to his position.

“I thought I heard a sound in this direction.”

“I heard it too. Sounded like troll-paws upon the rock. Furry faint, though, even to my ears.”

It took every ounce of his self control not to gasp at the second voice. He knew that voice. He knew that voice intimately well.

“Just motherfucking leave it. You probably heard a squeakbeast of some kind scurrying his little motherfucking ass away from our pounding steps of hurry. Besides, we've got some wicked plans to up and be putting into action or have you gone and forgot my wicked sister?”

“Gamzee is right. The steps were so faint that it was, perhaps, a squeakbeast as compared to a troll. I am merely high strung with the ninjairates coming behind us.”

“Furry well. I think the space just back that way was loose enough fur a staged cave in. The rock is already unstable. We should be able to rig something up rather easily there. I have used similar traps for my prey in the past.”

“Good kitty bitch. Lead the motherfucking way. We best get our hurry on if we want to survive this upcoming storm. I ain't wanting to leave a brother here by getting myself up and culled where I could've up and fought. Let's get this motherfucking trap up and done before we're done up and caught red fucking handed.”

The Signless remained stock still, he didn't even dare to breathe, as the footsteps headed back up the way they came. Hesitantly, once they sounded fainter to his ears, he scooted back down his little alcove and peeked around the edge with wide eyes.

He found wiggler grey, just starting to break into bright indigo purple, set onto a near frightening shade of dark orange, almost red, staring right back at him from a head-height below. The Signless hitched his breath in surprise.

“I know you ain't knowing whats up and going on no more, and that's motherfucking fine and all, but you've gotta make that change and change motherfucking soon,” the boy said slowly.

“This isn't how I remember it,” the Signless mumbled in response.

“Of course it motherfucking ain't how you remember,” Gamzee snapped. “Shit's gone and motherfucking changed on you and you ain't done a thing to get your pan up and noticing. Now I could schoolfeed you as long as you motherfucking need but that don't change that I've got some fucking work here to be getting done. You stay here, stay out of motherfucking sight, and once all our shits taken care of I'll come back and let you know. Of course you'll probably hear it but that makes no fucking difference to me. You just keep yourself put, and don't come interrupting that which you ought not. We'll talk after I've done what I need to do.”

“What are you talking about?” the Signless hissed through his teeth.

“I'm talking about culling some motherfucking blasphemous ninjairate scum that's what. Now stay yourself put and I'll be back after. Unless you wish to up and show the cat sister that you ain't culled when she saw you culled?”

The Signless nodded slowly and Gamzee smiled. It was a wide, and terrifying grin. “Good, my candy blooded fucker. You keep and we'll get our talk on later about my palest diamond brother and how you'll be helping him like you always done. You dig?”

“I dig,” the Signless muttered and vanished back into his little alcove. He heard Gamzee walk away.

For a while the Signless only heard sounds of exertion, the rumble of loosened rock being moved or shifted about. For a while there was nothing but silence and murmured words. For a while the Signless remained crouched, his breath but a whisper and his pan racing furiously to figure out how things changed. Wasn't he dead? Wasn't this but a dream?

Then there came the whooping laughter, cackling clicks, and cold voices. The enemies that were hunting the others had arrived. The Signless scooted back further, tense. His blood pusher thudded loudly. He knew that he couldn't let them see him, he couldn't be found, or else death would be his only greeting. Again.

The earth rumbled and shook. Rock spilled down and the alcove the Signless was in nearly collapsed. He slipped and let out a sharp curse as the ground sloped and then came crashing out back into the hall. Quickly he scrambled back up, but his voice had already carried and he was already spotted.

“What be this?”

The ninjairate that stood, crouched low, was a teal. The Signless let out a whirling click of warning and stood still.

“Eyes glow candy bright, I see? Mutant be you?” the ninjairate cackle-hissed, low and in the back of her windhole. The Signless let out another warning click, his eyes narrowed. “My, my. Mutants are cull on sight....” She raised her blade, curved similar to a threshecutioners scythe. The Signless let out one final warning which she ignored.

He gnashed his teeth, twisted his body, and in a smooth motion unholstered one of the two guns he had on his person and blocked the slice of the ninjairates blade with its muzzle. He pulled out the second and fired off a single shot which echoed down the passageway. The Signless didn't wait to see the teal fall dead, he quickly scrambled back up into the alcove and hid himself again.

This time he moved deeper into the darkness, where the walls closed in about his shoulders and he nearly had to crouch to avoid hitting his head. He took a deep breath once he felt safe enough, and strained his hear ducts to listen. The sound of battle still raged onward, more distant now than before. It was waning down, or so the Signless hoped. More pressing, however, was the sound of shallow breathing. It took a second to register, and following it came the metallic scent of blood.

He was not alone, and whoever was with him was injured. Signless titled his head and peered down into the pitch darkness. He could make out a vague shape or lump which previous he'd attributed to being rock, but now he wondered if it was flesh. Curiously, hesitant, and cautiously he reached out one hand and his fingers brushed cloth. A body then.

In bated breath and silence the Signless attempted to map out this injured party—it wasn't the teal that he'd shot dead, he knew that much right away. This was again something new, something different like the battle between the ninjairate and the three trolls a little ways away. It was when he came across the horns, four and curved inward just a titch, that the Signless let out a shocked breath.

“Psii?” he asked, this time quickly feeling out the face and looking for injuries. His hands came back wet, the face was oddly smooth and softer than he could remember. When he touched his fingers to his lips he tasted the sharp tang of metal— _blood_ \--and the sour-sweet of a yellowblood. Whoever this troll was, they looked and had the taste of the Psiioniic, or so Signless guessed, but they were too young to be his friend who was all angles and sharp edges once he fully shed his pupahood.

In the distance, it had gone quiet. The Signless looked back towards the way he came, unable to see much in the darkness, and back down to the lump of a gemini. He reached out and tugged the troll—his size definitely put him at six or seven sweeps old—into his arms. He had to be careful not to bang the boy too much against the walls of the narrow passageway. In silence the Signless made his way back towards the entrance. It didn't take long for him to be able to see the faint glow cast by the strange indigo-bloods wings.

The Signless did set down the young troll, whom now that he could see looked eerily like a younger Psiioniic. He breathed out a short promise to be right back and stumbled his way to Gamzee.

“About motherfucking time you up and made yourself present,” Gamzee snapped. “Now we going to get our talk on or motherfucking what?”

“You said something about your moirail and that I'd be helping him as I always have,” Signless said shortly. Indigo-bloods were terrifying in the way that they had always towered over him, before and now, even wigglers to his adult frame. It didn't help that some part of him actually did recognize this troll, but he was younger and scarred in ways that the Signless had never seen before. “Who are you talking about?”

“My pales diamond brother for whom you've done and done given up so much,” Gamzee said bluntly. “Or are you trying to tell me here that you don't even know a mother fuck about my Karkat?”

“ _Karkat?_ ” the name was hissed through his teeth. Signless felt ill. “Why is Karkat here? What. How. You know what never mind. That's not important. Where is he?”

“I ain't got no motherfucking clue, candy brother,” Gamzee snarled, his eyes darkening red just a bit. The Signless sighed and papped his cheek.

“Shoosh, pupa,” he said, slightly indignant that he had to reach just a bit _up_ to the younger troll. The red receded back to a burnt orange. Signless grimaced; it was the best he could do, not being Gamzee's actual moirail.

“It's been getting motherfucking harder to control,” Gamzee muttered, looking away almost embarrassed.

“It's understandable,” the Signless sighed. “You are without your moirail, worried for his health and his safety in this strange version of Alternia of which you don't know all the dangers for, it is no wonder you are able to control yourself this well. Besides, I think you know better than Karkat how much danger he is in, truthfully, without someone there to help him.”

Gamzee nodded once and murmured, “My punchblooded diamond ain't got no clue how much a motherfucking miracle he is up and being. He knows caution because caution ought to be what he should up and know, but he doesn't know how to quell his palest feelings for the most pitiable of fuckers that up and be existing.”

The Signless laughed, almost bitterly. “Pale for all of trollkind. I think I've heard that said once or twice before.” Gamzee quirked his lips, mostly as that was a rather apt description of what he meant. Karkat cared too much, sometimes, more than any other troll he knew.

“Then you up and understand,” Gamzee said. “Can you find him?”

The Signless stared at the younger troll, his lips curling down in thought. “Yes and no. It will come to me over time, especially since you've opened my eyes so to speak. For now I suggest you continue with your plans. I'll lead Karkat in your direction once I find him.” Signless clasped Gamzee on the shoulder and smiled. “Stay strong, pupa. You'll have your moirail back soon enough.”

Gamzee nodded in reply and gave the Signless a toothy grin back. The next second he started back towards where the others where, and the Signless slipped back up into the passageway with the young yellowblood he'd found. He remained hidden until they left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nothing much to this one here. I've been over on [Hiis Psiioniic](http://hiispsiioniic.tumblr.com) lately playing around. As a note, that Psiioniic's backstory and history _will be canon compliant with Candy Red Caste_. That is the Psiioniic for this series, quite literally, hijacked a full sweep or two after he begins journeying with the Signless. So he's young and very much damaged at that point. it's mostly for me to get the feel for the character ^^;
> 
> Anyway, this chapter took a sideways leap and looked at what the _Signless_ has been up to. Well now you know where Gamzee ran off to, and how Sign found Sollux. Needless to say shits about to get a bit more interesting on Karkat's end soon-ish. Gamzee's end might play out slower until I reach the tipping point. How that tipping point will play out when I write it will determine if I continue this two character split chapter, or spend all my chapters focusing on just Gamzee or just Karkat until I reach the _second_ tipping point. Yes, there are two _major tipping points_ planned soon. You'll see.


	9. Chapter 9

Sollux groaned and shifted. Everything hurt, from the tips of his horns to the balls on his feet. The pain was a novel feeling, as last he could remember was being in a dream bubble with Aradia.

“What the fuck?” Sollux rasped and pushed himself up until he was seated. He flung his hands out, feeling the area around him with a mixture of caution and recklessness. “Thtone?” he muttered, then grimaced. “Shitballth my lithp ith back.”

Sollux raised his hand to check his mouth, and yes, there were all his infuriating teeth in their lisping glory. With another groan Sollux thumped his head back against the stone wall, sparking psionics along his horns in mild frustration.

“How long have I been fucking out of it for my teeth to grow back?” he wondered, and then rather clumsily Sollux planted his hands on the ground and shifted his weight. He struggled, maneuvered himself onto his knees, and then planted one foot on the ground and attempted to stand up. His balance wavered, everything felt disproportionate to what he last remembered. It took only a second, but the strange shift in his center of gravity forced Sollux back to the ground.

“Shit,” Sollux cursed. “I didn't have thith much fucking trouble latht time I woke up blind.” It took him a second to realize that, yes, he actually was blind again. He waved a hand in front of his face, even made sure to encase his own fingers with psionic power, enough that he could feel the heat flow around his fingers in waves, but all he saw was black. “God fucking damn it. Can't I get a break for onthe in thith shitty univerthe?”

Sollux cursed some more, and once again tried to pull himself to his feet. He stumbled, crashed his horns into the stone wall, and almost toppled right back over again before his fingers were able to scramble purchase in the rock. Something, Sollux decided, was very wrong with this picture. Not only was he once again blind, but the rock beneath his fingers felt distinctly different from the porous meteor rock he'd grown used to.

He dug his claws into the stone as he felt his balance sway yet again. Now that Sollux was actually standing he understood why his balance felt so off. “How long have I fucking been out of it?” he mumbled, turning to rest his back against the stone walls. He'd grown taller, somehow, between what he could last remember with Aradia.

After a minute of trying to figure out where his center of gravity should be, Sollux decided to take a step and attempt to find his friends. They at least would have some answers, Karkat definitely if Sollux knew his little ball of fury for a friend well enough. Unfortunately that first step brought Sollux back down to the floor.

“...well thith thuckth,” he said after a minute, brow furrowed and lips tugged into a frown. With an annoyed sigh he lifted himself up with his psionics instead of risking more bruised knees and scraped palms. It took him a second, floating there, before he actually slapped his palm across his face. “I'm thuch a dumbath. Should have jutht done thith the firtht time.” Of course he proceeded to misjudge the height of the room and smacked the tips of his horns against the cave ceiling. His psionics wavered as his eye sockets squinted and his mouth pulled back into a grimace. It took only a second of flickering red and blue before Sollux hit the ground yet again. This time he just opted not to move. Everything hurt and Sollux was pretty sure that he was bleeding from his ears.

“Fuck it, I'm not moving. I shall become a burrito and thay fuck the univerthe and all ith annoying intricathieth and grubthlurping nonthenthe.” Sollux groaned and put his hands over his eye sockets. He dragged them down his face, rolling his bottom lip down as he sighed. “I am tho fucking done.”

The tips of Sollux's ears twitched to the sound of light rock being disturbed. The footsteps didn't sound familiar in the way of any of the remaining trolls being alive did. There wasn't the drag of a club on the ground, Karkat's angry stomps, or Kanaya's graceful dance. He didn't even hear the sound of Terezi's cane slapping the ground at every other interval. Granted it could be one of the humans, but the pattern of step, step, step, rock, was oddly rhythmically defensive. It was a Troll's footsteps.

There weren't any other trolls but him, Aradia, Karkat, Gamzee, Terezi, or Kanaya. There shouldn't be any other trolls. Alternia doomed herself and died. He remembered the crescendo of voices as they battered at his pan before they turned into a ringing silence, a death knoll of millions, billions, trillions of life with the single, panshattering screech of Gl'bgolyb.

Carefully Sollux tugged himself up with his psionics, this time hunching his back and shoulders and only dragging his feet until the tips of his shoes dragged against the ground. He raised his left hand and pooled further psionic energy to his palm, creating a ball of pulsating, glowing, psionic light. The footsteps paused.

“Whoth there?” Sollux demanded, his head tilted just the right way to convey that if he was tested, he would jam his horns right into the idiots jugular. He could have reached out with his powers, slithered them up into the pan of the intruder, and dealt with this unknown that way but Sollux preferred the direct method. He was young and brash, so he liked to be young and brash. On Alternia he used to muse that if he ever grew old enough to be an adult he'd take to fucking with the connections in another's think pan over being brash.

Now he just didn't care, as Alternia was dead. The only enemies worth being careful of where a giant green space monster and a carapacian dog monster, both of which could kill him before he even tried anything.

“I thaid whoth there?” Sollux reiterated, lifting his hand higher and pooling more of his psionics into his palm. Now there was a shocked gasp, so faint that Sollux could barely hear it. “I can fucking hear you nubthlurper. Thpeak up.”

“Oh, I apologize.” It sounded like Kanaya, so much so that Sollux lowered his hand just a bit as his brow furrowed.

“GA?” he asked, cocking his head to the side.

“I am afraid I don't follow.”

Not Kanaya then. The hand raised higher and Sollux reached out with tendrils of psionics that tried to find the nearest mass of living flesh and then he lifted the unknown into the air. They gasped out in shock, and holy crap they were tall, taller than anyone he knew aside from Gamzee.

“Look douchthtain I don't know who you fucking are or what you fucking want,” Sollux said quickly, his voice fading out into a raspy cough. How long had it been since he spoke. “But you better tell me grubfucking now what the ever loving shit ith going on.”

“Please put me down, wiggler,” she said, and that is as much as Sollux can tell about this stranger for now. “I didn't appreciate it when the little worker bee did this, and I don't appreciate it now. My feet where meant to be on the earth.”

“What?” That had sounded like a nod to his love of bees, all black and yellow with twin stingers and veritable mind-honey and honey making machines. Sollux tilted his head to the side even further and while he didn't let her down, he did try to puzzle out how she can know about his love for bees, if that was even what she referenced, and just where he heard her voice before.

“Rosa?” Sollux isntantly recognized the new voice. Karkat. He relaxed, his think pan racing with the new name to add to the unknown troll before him.

“I'm fine, although I would like to be put down,” spoke Rosa. “Your friend, however, does not appear to be as well.”

“What? Fuck. Ow.” Sollux heard Karkat stumbled through something, and then suddenly the other troll was there. There was no escaping the warmth of barely contained fury that radiated off of his closest friend. His face stretched into a grin.

“He appears to be blind?”

“What the blistering fuck did you think the empty eye sockets meant?” Karkat demanded, and then whacked Sollux upside his head. The blow lacked any real strength as Karkat had to reach up rather high to give Sollux the blow in the first place. “Put her down grubstain. She's not a fucking danger.”

“I could refute that statement, but I would rather like to be back on the ground,” Rosa replied. She spoke culturally, kind of like Kanaya actually. Perhaps that was why Sollux originally mistook her for the jade blood.

“Shit uhh thorry, KK,” Sollux rubbed the back of his head and released the psionics around Rosa's form. She didn't crash into the ground, although any younger troll with barely any training, or even some training, would have crashed from the sudden return of gravity. “Wait. She'th who?”

“Sollux, the Dolorosa, Dolorosa, Sollux fucking Captor,” Karkat gnashed out. He tugged on Sollux's arm, a silent statement of get down here. Sollux did as Karkat bid but mostly out of complete and utter confusion.

“Dolorotha? You mean like the fucking thtorieth out of that thtupid journal of VK'th?” Sollux asked, brow furrowed.

“One and the same,” Karkat replied, reaching out to steady Sollux as he swayed dangerously. “Shit blistering fuck you are light.” Sollux raised a hand to his head, his think pan swimming in confusion.

“KK thath impothible,” Sollux hissed between his teeth. “Alternia--”

“Let me put it this way numbbulge,” Karkat hissed right back. “Strider.”

“What?”

“English and Strider to be more specific,” Karkat continued blithely. “ Them and a giant fuckfest.”

“What the fuck?? If that were true AA or I would've fucking known!” Sollux spat back. “You couldn't come out of that with no tragedieth fuckath!”

“We did have a tragedy,” Karkat said right back. “Terezi.”

Sollux did his best impression of staring at the nearly fire hot troll who held him up.

“If you don't believe me,” Karkat said slowly. “Then use my fucking eyes.”

“Theriothly?” Sollux said. He didn't bother to even ask how Karkat would know to make that suggestion. Sollux learned long ago that Karkat could know things that he really shouldn't know. “KK I'm not--”

“Do it nookstain!” Karkat snapped. “I'm not arguing with you about this!” There was a second of silence, and then Sollux sighed. He reached out a hand, waving it awkwardly to find Karkat's face, and then the smaller trolls temple, and then he concentrated a small spark of his psionics.

Karkat's think pan, to Sollux, had always been the oddest and most secure thing in existence. He couldn't map the intricacies of the nubby horned troll like he could Vriska, Gamzee or even Feferi. Now though, as he twisted a bit of his powers beneath Karkat's skin, he found the probe slipping to the contours of Karkat's pan, searching for the pathway to sight. Surprisingly Karkat seemed to guide him right where he need to go, and as he did so a bit of the warmth to the other trolls skin faded away.

The minute Sollux made the connection Karkat blinked. A light blue and red haze covered over his eyes, the only sign that Sollux was tapped into the neural pathways. They blinked again, and Karkat turned his head. Sollux caught sight of himself, sightless, empty eyesockets, thin, pale-faced, and the barest hints of dried blood from his ears and his nose. He must have pushed himself harder than he thought, as it looked like he bled more than he realized. Karkat turned his head again, and this time Sollux saw the other troll, the Dolorosa.

His first thought was that she looked like Kanaya, only older, and if even possible, hotter. The second was that what he was seeing was impossible. Sollux's mouth fell open.

“Shit,” he said.

“Yeah,” Karkat replied, and then repeated, “Dolorosa, Sollux, Sollux, Dolorosa.”

“Hello grubling,” the Dolorosa greeted with a faint smile. “I must say you look a lot better than when Karkat first stumbled upon you.”

“Uhh,” Sollux wasn't sure what to say. “Better how? I look like fucking shit.”

“Language,” the Dolorosa chided, although it was half-hearted at best. Sollux sighed and let his fingers slip from Karkat's temple, and amazingly the connection stayed in tact. Karkat turned to look at Sollux again.

“Fuck, KK, thtop doing that. Ith weird looking at mythelf,” Sollux said. He could feel the fire of neurons as Karkat grinned.

Karkat didn't bother to reply, instead he asked, “Believe me now?” The Dolorosa tugged out a cloth from beneath the folds of her clothes, wet it with her saliva, and begin to clean away the fresh blood on Sollux's face. Sollux grimaced.

“Groth, but, yeah, I gueth?”

Karkat arched an eyebrow. “You guess?”

“Shit, I don't know what to fucking think KK!” Sollux snapped. “If. If thith ithn't thome fucked up dream then, shit. We're completely fucked. I mean. Thionicth were fucking thlaveth before the Exoduth.”

“I know.”

Sollux twisted his head as the Dolorosa continued to clean him up, he let out a few annoyed sounds but otherwise didn't fight her. Karkat keeping a hold of him helped in that regard.

“Shit, and then. Fuck. Ith he here too?” Sollux questioned.

“Which he?” Karkat asked as the Dolorosa stepped away. “Come on, we can walk and talk.” Karkat looped his arms under Sollux's armpits and begin to practically drag the taller troll through the caves. Sollux huffed.

“Both! Either! I don't fucking care I jutht. Shit, Karkat, thith ith the wortht pothible thing right now. The wortht.”

Karkat grimaced. “You don't think I fucking know, nooksniffer? It's been perigees and I haven't seen Gamzee so yes, this is the fucking worst.”

“Shit,” Sollux muttered. “Well?”

Karkat was silent. He licked his lip, another shock of neurons through the pathways of his pan, and again the temperature radiating from the others skin dropped.

“She won't have him for long,” he said eventually, shooting a glance out of the corner of his eye up at Sollux.

“...we are tho fucking doomed. God damn it. I thought thith thtage wath patht uth.”

The Dolorosa glanced back, keeping quiet about a conversation she couldn't follow. She already had guessed that this young, strange, version of her sweet grub came from somewhere far, far different. He was no less wordy, impulsive, and captivating as her son had been, but he was softer than Kankri could ever afford to be.

“The caves exit up ahead. There should be a village to the southeast. If I remember correct its a midblood village meant to be a waypoint for young jadebloods on their way to the brooding caverns,” the Dolorosa said softly. “We should be safe to rest there for a day or two, and then we can move onwards.”

Karkat looked over to her now, and he grinned. “I think I have a good idea of where to go. Tell me, 'Rosa, do you know a troll known as Neophyte Redglare?”

* * *

The Signless leaned his back against the cave wall, his eyes closed and his cloak wrapped tight about him. He slid down until he buried his face into his knees, breathing deeply into the material of his pants. He could taste the salt of the sea on his tongue, familiarly dangerous, and soothingly welcome. With a sigh he opened his eyes, half-mast and almost dazed. They glowed bright, candy red, blocking out the yellow of his sclera.

“You were right,” he said into the air. “You were right. I feel like a bulgeless idiot for ever doubting your prophecies. Gods, 'Tuna, how could I have ever not believed in you? After all the fucking shit you've done, both then and now. I should have known.”

Aboard the Condescension, chained in wires of purple, melded into the computer of a ship, sat the Psiioniic. His eyes flashed back and forth between red and blue, the same lights that bathed the helmsblock alternating. He breathed out noisily, wetly, as he hung limply in place. His mind raced.

 **INITIALIZE SERVER SUBROUTINE** tryandfiindmebiitch  
 **INITIALIZED**

 **WELCOME** Ψ **YOU HAVE (1) MESSAGE WAITING FROM** ♋

**INITIALIZE CLIENT  
CLIENT INITIALIZED**

Ψ: you couldnt have known iif ii was riight fucker  
Ψ: that was an iimpossiibiiliity for you dumbass  
Ψ: but yes  
Ψ: you should have beliieved me  
Ψ: beliieved iin me  
Ψ: liike ii diid you  
Ψ: anyway  
Ψ: when was ii ever wrong?

The Signless laughed, broken and pitiful. “Not once, not yet,” he murmured. “Does she...?”

Ψ: no  
Ψ: at least  
Ψ: not thiis one

The Signless dug his fingers into his pants, breathed out heavily through his nose. The Psiioniic could feel imagined arms wrapping around his entrapped form, soothingly pale, loving flushed.

“Thign,” Psiioniic breathed.

♋: Then she waits f9r us 9ut there?  
♋: Am9ng the stars?  
♋: Al9ne?

+

“Yeth,” Psiioniic murmured, the lights of his eyes dimming in a parody of eyelids drooping half-shut. “She ith ourth.”

♋: 9nly 9urs.  
♋: Always 9urs.  
♋: It was like y9u said it w9uld 6e.  
♋: L9ve red.

“And love black....” The Psiioniic physically drooped in his bindings, nuzzling his face into a form that wasn't there, couldn't be there, but one he saw all the same. The Signless smiled and pressed their foreheads together. He floated in the air, hands wrapped lightly around the Psiioniic's head. He wore an outfit the Psiioniic had only seen once, sketched in a journal, a memory long half-forgotten. Bright, crimson candy red wings flared from his back.

Ψ: seer of blood  
Ψ: how could ii have forgotten iit  
Ψ: how could ii have forgotten then?  
♋: We fucked up.  
♋: Every9ne had t9 f9rget.  
♋: Even y9u.  
Ψ: you stiill type liike you were hiim  
Ψ: iit should have been obviious  
Ψ: we all dreamed of iit you know  
♋: I kn9w.  
♋: Y9u dreamed, 6ut y9u didn't remem6er.  
♋: Y9u aren't him, 'Tuna.  
♋: I'm n9t him either.  
♋: Life made us different, this time.  
♋: Made us str9nger, 6etter prepared f9r what is t9 c9me.  
Ψ: we are though  
Ψ: even iif iits all wrong and diifferent  
Ψ: we are them  
Ψ: just because we fucked up and reset everythiing doesnt change us  
Ψ: iit never wiill  
♋: I guess y9u are right.  
♋: In the end, despite the changes and differences, we are still wh9 we were.  
♋: At 9ur c9re n9thing has changed 9ver much.  
♋: 9ur experiences were different, 9ur lives different, and yet n9thing has changed fr9m wh9 we were.  
Ψ: you stiill fiight for the underpriivaleged  
Ψ: and ii am stiill broken  
♋: And yet y9u never 6ecame matesprites with Latula, or m9irails with Kurl9z.  
♋: I didn't remain celi6ate.  
♋: P9rrim never felt the urge t9 sleep with every tr9ll in the vacinity t9 her pers9n.  
♋: Meulin ch9se me and never went deaf.  
♋: Kurl9z 6ecame a menace, killing with9ut a6and9n.  
Ψ: alriight  
Ψ: youve made your poiint  
Ψ: were both riight  
♋: And we're 69th wr9ng, y9u can't f9rget that 'Tuna.  
Ψ: ii miiss you  
Ψ: ii miss them  
♋: I kn9w.  
♋: I'm s9 s9rry.  
Ψ: iit was my choiice  
Ψ: just as remaiiniing iin the shadows was yours  
♋: It is time f9r the shad9ws t9 end.  
♋: I'm unsure if I'm ready.  
♋: 9ver tw9 th9usand sweeps 9f 6eing a silent shad9w.  
♋: Can I handle 6eing in the light again?  
Ψ: iit iis tiime kan  
Ψ: thiis iis our endgame  
Ψ: weve come too far to stop now  
♋: I kn9w.  
♋: I'm just.  
♋: They'll hate us, for what we did.  
♋: Can y9u handle that?  
♋: Can I?  
Ψ: we must  
Ψ: we always must  
Ψ: no matter what  
Ψ: thiis iis what fate has chosen  
Ψ: what we have chosen  
Ψ: thiis iis ours kan  
Ψ: ours  
Ψ: she iis ours no matter what  
Ψ: she was always meant to be  
Ψ: we were just too bliind to see iit so long ago  
♋: Yes.  
♋: This is the end.  
♋: Are y9u ready, 9ld friend?  
Ψ: iive been waiitiing for over two thousand sweeps  
Ψ: iive been ready for a long tiime now  
♋: Then let us get started.

The Psiioniic laughed, staring into the bright, brilliant red gaze of his oldest and greatest friend.

“Yeth,” he said as the Seer of Blood faded from view.

“It is time,” the Signless uttered, raising his head towards the ceiling of the cave, his eyes back to normal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, the original posting of this chapter was actually a really, really rough draft. As you can see it went through major changes, as in an entire rewrite. The original draft was half-finished, half-thought, and mostly written while I was half asleep. I posted it when I was practically unconscious thanks to a new medication I am taking to alleviate my migraine headaches.
> 
> Plus side, I don't get headaches as often anymore!
> 
> Downside it made me do that. Sorry? Enjoy the actual chapter now.


	10. Chapter 10

♋ has sent you a message!

♋: Darkleer.  
♋: I wish t9 f9rewarn you a69ut s9me c9mpany that is heading y9ur way.  
♋: As a c9urtesy f9r all that y9u have d9ne f9r, well, y9u kn9w.  
♋: I d9n't need t9 say it d9 I?  
♋: Just, d9nt tell her.  
♋: Please.  
♋: I can't  
♋: I'm n9t ready t9 face her yet.  
♋: I d9n't kn9w if I ever will 6e.  
♋: 6ut.  
♋: Just d9n't turn them away.  
♋: They are d9ing s9mething great.  
♋: S9mething very imp9rtant.  
♋: Help them.  
♋: Help her.  
♋: I kn9w it is a l9t t9 ask, after everything else y9u have d9ne.  
♋: 6ut just this 9ne last thing, is all, I swear.  
♋: ...  
♋: ...thank y9u, friend.  
♋: And I'm s9rry.  
♋: A69ut everything.  
♐: I don't understand.  
♋: Y9u'll understand everything in time.  
♋: All 9f Alternia will.  
♐: Signless?  
♐: How?  
♋: Help them.  
♋: Help her.  
♋: Please.  
♋: And kn9w that I am s9rry.  
♋: S9 s9rry.  
♐: Wait, Signless!  
♐: What do you mean?  
♐: Who is coming here?  
♐: Who do you wish me to help?  
♐: Signless?  
♐: Signless?

♋has disconnected!

Darkleer stared at the screen before him, triple reinforced to withstand his insane strength. He hadn't had any communication with the supposedly dead mutant blood except for when he dragged the boy out in chains. He had been so certain, so assured, that the boy had died that day. He could even remember the screams, _her_ screams, as she fought and clawed at his Acheradicators that held her back. It was even his own arrow, fletched in his blue, that was the would-be killing blow. Darkleer could remember the bright, brilliant mutant blood that flowed, and flowed, and didn't stop until the boy, chained up and broken, hoarse and bleeding, breathed his last.

He sighed, bowed his head and curled his hands atop the helmet he wore for protection, wrapped his fingers around the base of his horns. His hair fell like a curtain around his face. He could still remember his orders, seeing her, what the Signless told him, he could remember everything.

 _I know it is probably foolish of me to ask anything of you, but, well, I'm going to die either way so I figure it wouldn't hurt,”_ he had said, all nonchalant and unworried or unhurried about what would soon befall him. _“Consider it a last request of a man about to die, but, I would greatly appreciate it that when they ask you to kill her...that you show her mercy instead. She hasn't done anything wrong, except love someone that she was better off without.”_

Darkleer didn't know, didn't realize, how much the Signless was right. Seeing her, the Disciple, feral and broken at the death of her lover, tore at him inside. When the order came he obeyed. He chased her down, notched his arrow, and prepared to take the shot.

That was when she looked at him. She clutched at the bloodstained cloak, tear tracks of olive trailing down her cheeks, and just looked at him. The Disciple was broken, and all because she loved a mutant. Darkleer did the unfathomable and lowered his bow. He just stared at her, and then turned his back.

Nobody should die just because they loved the wrong person.

Not even her.

When he'd returned and reported the failure, he was banished. Marquise Mindfang found him soon after that, high and looking for a fight to end it all. He wanted to rid himself of this shame. She sobered him up, brokered a deal with him, and since has been privately sending him funds and things to tinker with, if only to insure that her momentary kindness was not wasted. So Darkleer came to be here, in this cave system, with all the latest toys and gadgets to toy with to his content.

Darkleer knew that he played a dangerous game, allying himself with the Marquise and then, secretly, breaking about half of her 'rules' for saving his life. His life was a broken mess of meaninglessness since that day, his honor turned to shame, his accomplishments vilified. Everything he held dear was utterly ruined, and out of it came a troll who grew a different set of ideals to live by.

Not that the Marquise knew, Darkleer was good at hiding things from the people he wanted.

The hulking beast of a troll sighed again, got to his feet, and left his computer be. For all he knew it could be a trick, some sort of ploy by the Condesce and her ilk, that message, but something about it rang true in a way Darkleer didn't want to admit. Pondering upon the Signless' miraculous survival he meandered through the caves, hallways that he used now, until he came upon the Nutriblodck. Here he opened the Thermal Hull and began to make himself something to eat.

He never noticed his computer tick to a black screen, or the bright golden text the spanned across it, working quickly to erase any sign of the conversation before. If he did, he would have recognized the Helmsman's handiwork for what it was. Instead, he made himself the meal and looked up when there came a loud bang at the door.

Darkleer gripped his boy and held an arrow tightly in one hand. He left the nutrition plateau in the nutribock and moved towards where he had installed a giant door several sweeps back. He strained his ears to listen and waited.

The banging came, twice more, and then a few times more after that. The pattern repeated twice, and then fell silent. Darkleer relaxed minutely, lowering his bow to be held at his side. He worked through the door's locking mechanism and then pulled it open. Outside night had just began to dawn upon the lands, but that was not what caught his attention.

Standing before him, cloaked in the tattered rag, was the familiar form of the Disciple. He could see the green of her dress showing through from the holes in the cloak. It covered her long hair, and fell into her eyes, even as her horns poked through the top of the hood. Standing beside her was an uncloaked jadeblood and a cloaked stranger who was almost as tall as the Disciple herself.

Darkleer relaxed entirely.

“Disciple,” he said, taking in what little of her face he could. “Why are you here?”

The Disciple kept her head shadowed by the hood, but he could see the smile at her face.

“Darkleer, can we come in?” she countered. “There is much we have to talk about.”

* * *

The sky was slowly beginning to lighten. Dusty dawn brushed against the back of a singular troll, climbing along the sheer cliff-face over a tumultuous inlet. Nails dug into the rock, ferreting out handholds to pull his body further up. Faint beads of sweat curled down his his forehead, protected by the hood on top of his head. He grunted with the exertion, and just as the sun was beginning to kiss the horizon, as its blistering rays were just beginning to reach across the surface of the planet, he pulled himself up onto the rocky top.

For a moment the Signless let himself pause, to catch his breath, and then he pulled himself to his feet. He turned to stare out at the ocean expanse, and the glittering bright lights of the sun as it began to dance on the water. At his side his hands clenched into a fist. His lips curled into a snarl, and he bared his teeth.

“Where,” he breathed out through gritted teeth.

Ψ: docked at port  
Ψ: where the fuck else

“Don't pull that shit with me,” the Signless hissed under his breath, and slowly began to relax.

Ψ: ii have to admiit siign  
Ψ: you showed great fuckiing restraiint  
Ψ: when miinii-you told you

“You spying on me buglestain?” he laughed, slightly and stretched his neck.

Ψ: iisnt anythiing else fuckiing iinterestiing iis there  
Ψ: ii mean asiide from liiviing iin my own waste  
Ψ: but there iis only so much that can fasciinate someone wiith a mental capaciity liike miine  
Ψ: so yeah  
Ψ: iits fuckiing amusiing

“Then you know what I'm going to do.”

Ψ: duh  
Ψ: iid be riight there wiith you  
Ψ: except iim currently stuck as a liiviing breathiing battery for the seawiitch wiith a death wiish  
Ψ: not much ii can do from here  
Ψ: except maybe fuck up some shiit up  
Ψ: and make sure shes stuck riight where you want her

“Good. North?” he asked, stretching his arms and his legs.

Ψ: yeah  
Ψ: riight where you want her  
Ψ: completely obliiviious  
Ψ: riip off a liimb for me

“I'll rip off two.” The Signless grinned viciously, fingering his many weapons with a cold smile across his face. He walked along the edge of the cliff until he was passed the inlet. Then he peered down at the ocean as the sun raised higher in the sky.

Ψ: iill delay for as long as ii can  
Ψ: dont waste too much tiime asshole

“I won't.” The Signless walked back a few paces. “I'll see you soon.”

Ψ: you better  
Ψ: iive been waiitiing too long for thiis shiit

Once he was far enough back, the Signless took a deep breath. He reached back under his cloak and pulled down on a zipper, folding the upper portion of his pants down. He pulled off the armbands around his arms, securing them to a little hook on his pants. On his arms were two severely mutilated fins, and as his cloaked moved a set of damaged gills could be seen in the gap. He took another deep breath.

“Here goes,” he said.

Ψ: do you want me to wiish you good luck or somethiing  
Ψ: because ii wont  
Ψ: you dont fuckiing need iit  
Ψ: not liike she can steal iit

He let out a snort of a laugh, and then the Signless took off at a run. He came upon the edge of the cliff in seconds, his foot hit the edge, and he pushed off into a swan dive to the ocean. The sun was just beginning to touch the walls of the rock face when he hit the water.

Determined the Signless began to swim. At first it was painful. He hadn't honestly used his gills in quite some time, preferring to avoid the water and only wetting them as necessary. The fins on his arms had long since grown numb from the damage they sustained over the years, but even a glance at how the water would tear through the delicate flesh brought back a memory of a phantom pain.

It got easier, though, as more and more of his body adjusted to the motions he'd not performed in sweeps. It was like getting on a two-wheel device—the body never quite forgot how to perform the motions, and while wobbly at first soon things are once more steady. So it was with his gills, his fins, and his mindset.

After all the Signless was a troll on a mission.

Revenge.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I am reworking Candy Red King. You can find the new Candy Red King under the same title. It will be the first story within this series. I'll be putting it up tomorrow. For now, have fun with this little teaser of the new first chapter which _will_ be longer and far more extensive than the original.
> 
> This story will remain as a "Rough Draft" sort of thing. You can read this if you want, but the true Candy Red King is getting a required overhaul.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am reworking Candy Red King. You can find the new Candy Red King under the same title. It will be the first story within this series. I'll be putting it up tomorrow. For now, have fun with this little teaser of the new first chapter which _will_ be longer and far more extensive than the original.
> 
> This story will remain as a "Rough Draft" sort of thing. You can read this if you want, but the true Candy Red King is getting a required overhaul.

Psiioniic looked over into the distance again. He scowled.

“There’s nothing more you can do for him, baby doll,” Redglare rolled her eyes and tugged her cane up to poke him in the leg. Psiioniic jerked and glared down at her with furrowed brows. “He’ll come around in his own time. Now quit stalling.”

“I’m not thtalling,” Psiioniic said petulantly and placed his chin atop his knees.

“Uh huh, of course your not.” Redglare poked him with the head of her cane again. “Come on.”

Psiioniic sighed. He said, resigned, “Fine,” and slipped from the tree. He kept his shoulders hunched, hands shoved into a pair of holes on the sides of his pants where wires once poked into his thighs. He trudged forward, Redglare leisurely walking behind him with a wide, shit-eating grin on her face. For a moment he resented that grin, resented that she’d gotten him to move when he’d been adamant that he not.

He sighed, then laughed. Who was he kidding? She could always get him to move. Psiioniic knew it the moment he’d first met her that if they ever did see each other again he’d do anything for her. He’d known it when she was nothing more than a wiggler and he’d handed over his cloak to stop her from burning. He hadn’t known  what it was exactly that he knew, not at the time, but now with over two-thousand sweeps beyond how old Psiioniic knew he should be, he understood.

Psiioniic paused inside the treeline, just out of sight of his younger, stupider, more arrogant self and his matesprit. He stared down at them, and then glanced to Redglare who stood at his side with a raised brow.

“What?” she asked. “Second thoughts?”

He licked his lips, tugged his hair in nervous habit. “You know that...that when it happenth you...you won’t remember any of thith right?”

Redglare smiled sadly. “I know.”

“All theeth thweepth,” he continued, “all thith time, you’ll jutht forget. Everything.”

Redglare patted him on the cheek, then placed a kiss to his chin. “Doesn’t matter, MT,” she told him. “I’m happy, even if I forget the best sweeps of my afterlife, I am  happy .”

Psiioniic sighed. He said, shakily, “I won’t be able to find you.”

“You will,” Redglare told him. “Eventually, you will. I know you will.”

He closed his eyes. “It won’t be like thith,” he warned her.

“I know.” She reached out a hand and wrapped her fingers with his. “I know.”

“Thith ith the latht time,” he said, his breath hitching, and he couldn’t finish the sentence.

“It’s okay.” Redglare pulled the hand up wrapped in his until it touched her chest. She held it there as she reached out with her other hand to turn his chin towards her, forced him to look at her. She smiled. “It’s okay,” she repeated. “I understand.”

“I wish you didn’t,” Psiioniic said honestly. “Thith wouldn’t be tho hard if you didn’t.”

“It was never going to be easy,” Redglare informed him. “You know that.”

“I do.” He towered over her. There’d been a time, once, where she towered over him. His glanced at them, at her tall and powerful and  perfect and then back to Redglare, small, wonderful, understanding Redglare. “But I,” he started, then closed his eyes. “I wish it would be different, now,” he whispered. “I didn’t know….”

“You did,” she interrupted. “You just don’t want to admit it.”

“I did,” he admitted, and then cupped her cheek. “I’m thorry.”

“Don’t be.”

“Can’t,” he told her, then leaned down and kissed her on the lips. He cried, but they were bloodless tears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am reworking Candy Red King. You can find the new Candy Red King under the same title. It will be the first story within this series. I'll be putting it up tomorrow. For now, have fun with this little teaser of the new first chapter which _will_ be longer and far more extensive than the original.
> 
> This story will remain as a "Rough Draft" sort of thing. You can read this if you want, but the true Candy Red King is getting a required overhaul.

**Author's Note:**

> This is why I cannot look at kinkmemes in the slightest. I get ideas, and those ideas twist. This is inspired by at the very least three different requests/posts on the kinkmeme for Homestuck, with my own desire to see something specific as well. So yeah. That's...where this came from. Do not expect it to be worked upon much.
> 
> Oh god, why....
> 
> EDIT:
> 
> Thank you Kouru-Kage, GreyNoise and mynameisyarra for pointing out spelling errors!
> 
> Readers of this story, I do not always catch my own errors when I proof-edit, and I do appreciate nitpicking my spelling mistakes. If anything, it helps make this story a more enjoyable read for others later down the road. If there are **any** spelling or grammer errors, please do not hesitate to point them out! Even if its just a question as to why something was worded a certain way -- such as the phrase "earth shattering" as pointed out by Nicole -- please, please don't hesitate to comment! It really does help me, and it makes this story vastly better for others. Even if I don't appear to take any advice within the confines of this story, I do always file it away for later use.


End file.
